#oh no hes haunted by every person he had ever left behind but he proceeds with this behavior cuz leaving is easier than solving shit 🤯🤯

[kapi-tanka]

did a caravan collector's edition styled thingy with my courier(s) no particular symbolism in oscar being the ace of hearts, he just feels like one to me. a small yet important value

[spideyanakin]

10 Things I Hate About you - Chapter 5

Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader

synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - way too much fluff, ties in with season 1 (rip Barb), talks about Eddie's past (so trigger warning?), lotr references, one lil suggestive moment, angst if you squint

word count - 14.5k

Proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

the playlist

There was not a time in your life where you once believed you would feel like a main character in one of those cheesy romantic comedies your mom liked to watch on Friday nights.

Never did you think you would close the door to your house with a dumb smile plastered across your lips and a lovesick sigh would proceed to tumble from your body as your bag slid from your shoulder to find its spot beside the umbrella rack. You bit your lip, leaning against the white wood of your entry door in a daze.

Never did you think that the warm fuzzy feeling the young female lead always described would be coursing through your veins, astonished in the best of ways when the images of today flashed through your mind. Was this how Juliet felt when she first met Romeo at that masked ball? You felt dizzy; light and floating at the same time. Your fingers traveled by themselves to your lips as the ghost of his own haunted your thoughts. 

What had just happened? 

Eddie fucking Munson. 

That's not what, but who. 

The crazy metalhead who turned out to be the most amazing person you had ever set your eyes on. The one who would play torturous games of tags with teachers and spend half of his life getting detentions he never stepped foot in. 

That boy had come into your life like a hurricane. Ravaging every single one of your well thought out plans and everything you had seemed to set your mind on only to leave everything in the dust to be swept away with the wind. It only left you to become helplessly and hopelessly submerged by his existence.

"Y/n?" Your mom's wavering voice came from the kitchen, "Darling, is that you?" You could hear her footsteps on the colored carpet coming toward the entryway. 

"Yeah, mom, it's me." 

"Oh my God! Where were you?" She sighed out, voice cracking in relief.

"Out?" You said, nonchalantly as if you did it often and it wasn’t unusual. Slipping your shoes beside the door, you wiggled your socked feet out and kicked your shoes perfectly against the wall before walking the few steps towards the kitchen archway.

She was already halfway to you. Half of her hair stuck in bright pink and yellow hot rollers, her pink cotton shirt falling off one shoulder and worry creases marked between her eyebrows.  Her makeup done up and her eyes in a personified version of panic. 

Behind her, Steve sat on the counter with an unbothered gaze and a glass of orange juice between his fingers. He was fixing a strand of hair falling on his forehead before he took a sip of his juice. You noticed your father next to him, facing you with a stern look in his eyes. He was well dressed in his best polo and white dress pants. 

It was obvious your parents were getting ready to go somewhere and you were a stickler in their evening plans.

"Never do this to us again," your mother took a bated breath before continuing on. Her shaking hands reach for you to wrap her arms around your shoulders.

"O-ok?"

"Where were you?"

"I told you she was out with her boyfriend!" Steve smirked in between two sips. You glared at him from behind your mother’s shoulder before pulling away.

"I was out with a friend," you corrected. A friend which you had just kissed. But none of that mattered by the way your mother kept her hands on your shoulders and that crease between her brows only deepened, fighting the urge to fall into the panic that had been brewing for hours.

"What happened?" You scanned your mother's face, attempting to clarify the situation.

"You didn't come home after class and with that Byers boy disappearing–"

"Mom,” you interjected. “I'm fine."

"But you could have not been! We don't know what happened to Joyce’s boy and if someone’s out there snatching up–" 

"Mom,” you stressed again. “I was with someone. Nothing could have happened to me." 

And she frowned as your words sunk in, sighing and gripping your shoulder tighter and tighter until all of her weight was on you and the pressure was enough to make a bone ache. It was the worry of a mother.

"I was worried sick."

"I'm fine. Trust me,” you nodded, slipping out of her arms to go grab a glass of orange juice for yourself.

“Why is your hair wet?” Steve narrowed his eyes on you. He was poking around for insights on his plan and hoping that your parents would see you were up to something. 

“We went paintballing and I took a shower.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’” Your father raised an eyebrow.

“Her and her boyfriend,” Steve sang. 

“Boyfriend?”

“Well…it’s not like we’ve labeled anything–”

“I KNEW IT!” Steve pointed his finger at you.

“Steve-”

“Well, I’m glad you're home safe,” your father continued, too tired to go further into this conversation. “Both of our kids are home safe… Now, shall we finish getting ready? We also have our suitcases to prepare for tomorrow,” he turned his attention to your mother.

“Where are you guys going tonight?”

“Enzo’s.”

“Ah ok,” you nodded before opening the cupboard and grabbing the first glass that fell between your fingers; an old mustard glass from when you were a kid. The white cat from Disney’s Aristocats was painted on it. You took a short glance at it only to notice the tail was starting to fade off from the amount of times you’d used and washed it. “I might be going to the search.”

“Search?”

“The search for Will Byers. Half of the town is going,” you placed the glass on the counter before reaching for the orange juice carton next to Steve.

"Is that ‘boyfriend’ of yours coming with you?" Your father further questioned. 

"Nope," you shook your head, hoping your smile would be enough to shove the subject away. 

"I don’t like you going alone."

"As I said, there's a whole party going. Chief Hopper included."

Your father thought for a second, pursing his lips before nodding. “Don’t come home too late.”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

"Well,” Steve slipped off the counter and winked at you as he turned to put his glass in the sink. “I’m going to Nancy’s to study.” 

"You're going to who's?" The surprise in your father’s voice was evident.

"Steve’s new love interest," you took a sip, excited to see the arguments your brother would throw at your dad.

“Potential new love interest!” He corrected you.

"Steve-"

"You said I could date when she does!" He raised his hands in innocence before slithering his way out of the room like a cheeky cat who had just captured the mouse. "Rules are rules, Dad."

“I don’t have time for this,” your father pinched the bridge of his nose and gave you one last look as if to tell you 'be safe' before turning around on his heels and exiting the kitchen, your mother following behind with not another word spoken.

~

“Rumor is,” Tommy beamed as he approached Carol and Steve, wrapping an arm around her shoulder–a large smirk plastered on his face, “the Freak and your sister are dating.” 

“I KNEW IT!” Steve threw his fist in the air in victory. “She came back home late yesterday after a totally not date with him.” Steve chewed on his bubble gum as he spoke, excitement rising in his chest at the idea. Everything was finally going according to plan, he grinned, looking around the bright hallway for any signs of you. He unfortunately didn’t spot you in the multitude of heads bopping around the corridor and turned his attention back to his friends.

“How’d you know?”

“People spotted them together in the hallway this morning before class. They kissed apparently.”

“This is actually going well,” Carol chuckled. “Who would have thought?” 

“Not me,” Tommy laughed.

“Damn,” Steve scoffed in surprise. He hadn’t expected for the plan to go that well, but He sure as shit could finally go out with Nancy now and that was all that mattered. 

On the other end of the hallway, hidden by the sea of students, Eddie had been waiting for you. Leaning on the wall by the door to Mrs. Click’s class, ee was toying with the chain attached to his jeans as he blankly stared at the little window opening. He could spot Mrs. Click bright red curls poking atop her head as she moved around the board. Eddie could almost hear the loud thud of her giant ruler colliding with whatever she had written on the board, continuing to go on about whatever country she had been rambling about. He thought this would forever be a trauma sound; anchored into his mind, doomed to haunt him every time he saw a world map. 

Finally, after what felt like a hellish eternity, the door opened and there you were: angelic as ever as you fixed your grip on your bag and pulled your walkman out of your back pocket. 

Eddie pushed himself off of the wall. He met your gaze as he got closer and wished he could permanently tattoo in his brain the smile that lit your features when you spotted him. His whole being buzzed with happiness as you strutted over and gave his cheek a peck. Eddie hummed in appreciation before you wrapped arm around his waist and his fell over your shoulder. 

It quickly became obvious that the onslaught of students would make walking like a pair more difficult. So as fast as your limbs had found purchase on the other, they left and returned to their homes at the sides of your bodies. 

“What tape did you bring today?” He asked, bumping his shoulder into yours instead.

“Rebel Yell.” 

“Of course you listen to Billy Idol,” he chuckled.

“And of course you wouldn’t,” you gave him your best smile. “Let me guess, it isn't metal enough for you?”

“Bullseye” Eddie pretended to throw a dart, a popping sound emitting from his lips as he let the imaginary dart go and it hit the red center. 

“Well, I like Billy Idol very much,” you placed the walkman back in your pocket with the headphones now resting safely on your shoulders. 

"How was the search?" Eddie changed the subject but instantly felt the shift in the conversation. You frowned before answering. He shouldn’t have asked. He should have listened to the gossip of the table beside him at lunch but he couldn’t help it. He was just as invested as everyone else. 

"Led absolutely nowhere," you sighed. You allowed yourself to melt closer to him as you held your notebooks tighter against your chest. "I just hope nothing bad has happened to him. He’s a good, quiet kid.”

Eddie came to a halt in the hallway and made you stop with him. He turned you around so you’d face him, taking your free hand in his. 

"Hey, look, I'm sure he's going to be alright," he took a breath and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. "Plus they're continuing the search today, they have to find him. This is a small town, and nothing bad ever happens in Hawkins."

"Yeah," you nodded, “I guess you’re right,” you did your best to try and sound hopeful, but the pit at the bottom of your stomach wouldn't budge. You looked up from your red history notebook to find Eddie’s bright eyes staring right back–making you feel just a little bit better.

"C'mon," Eddie nudged you, keeping his hand locked in yours. “Let’s get to class.”

You sighed as you continued your walk through the hall. You were so caught up in the multitude of possibilities as to where Will Byers could be that you didn't think twice about the way Eddie was holding your hand.

In the meantime, Eddie couldn't believe that his fingers were intertwined with yours in the middle of the fucking Hawkins High hallway. He couldn't believe that he was walking with the girl of his dreams by his side and that she was not giving a care in the world about the lingering eyes and odd stares. Eddie had tried to convince himself that this morning had all been a dream. That you hadn’t jumped to hug him the second you met his eyes that morning or that you hadn’t pecked his lips before rushing off into Mr. Davis’ classroom. But the fact that your hand was indeed securely locked in his own made him know this was very much real.

He could hear the patter of his heart climbing up to his ears just thinking about it all.

But the dreamy reality quickly crushed when he spotted Steve's fluffy head of hair. He suddenly remembered that two weeks ago he wasn't even sure of your name. That not even two weeks ago he hadn’t had a clue that you were this amazing girl of his dreams that would make him feel this way. Two weeks ago he would have laughed at the face of anyone that would tell him he was on the road to falling in love. That he was practically sure he had met his soulmate and was utterly captivated in a two-week time frame which seemed so ridiculous. 

The closer the both of you became to Steve, the more he wanted to throw up.

"Oh my God," your voice brought him back.

"What?"

"I cannot believe Steve got his grip on Nancy so quickly," you squeezed his hand tighter and Eddie did too. Perhaps the fear of losing you had iced his veins because the words that left your lips felt too real. Of course Steve would be seen with Nancy. It was the entire point as to why he had paid Eddie in the first place. Now that he had the girl, it felt too likely that Steve would drop the deal and Eddie could try and see how he would go from there.

"What do you mean?" He played dumb.

"Well, now that I've been hanging out with you more, Steve is using this as a ‘get out of jail free’ card."

"Ah,"

"A party?" you heard Nancy squeak. "But it's Wednesday."

"C'mon it will be just a small gathering," Steve gave her a dazzling smile. 

"Well, look who it is!" Tommy Hagen cheered with a bright smirk and you closed your eyes in despair. Of course they had to call you. Carol leaned into Tommy’s shoulder as she eyed you and Eddie up and down, a sly smirk on her lips at the sight.

The hair on Eddie's arm spiked as Tommy's voice traveled up to his ears. He straightened himself up, bracing for the snarky remarks or comments that always came out of his mouth.

Steve turned around at the distraction. And rather than jeer like Carol and Tommy, he was rather happy to be met with yours and Eddie's faces. He was beaming an even brighter smile when he saw your intertwined hands but you quickly slipped yours out of Eddie's before he or his dumb friends could even think of commenting.

Eddie felt his heart plummet back to his shoes at the security that left him. 

"Y/n, you should invite Eddie," Steve pointed to Eddie as if to say ‘this is Eddie, this is who I am referring to’.

"Invite him to what?"

"Our party! Tonight!"

"Party?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Steve, you can’t just throw a party just because Mom and Dad are gone. What about-"

"-It’s just a small gathering. Just us seven."

"Steve-"

"Eddie, you coming?" Steve cut you off before you could say anything.

Eddie’s eyes widened. He looked confused, scared, in the slightest. He was never invited to the small gatherings of popular kids. He had no idea what it would even be. And in the small gatherings he would do with his friends, they played D and D and smoked and listened to records or tested new music. They had a reason to meet up, something to discuss.  

"Um, yeah… sure?" He side eyed you, and you stared daggers back. He could tell this was annoying you more than you were leading on.

"Good," Steve clapped his hands.

"Oh and bring some stuff," Tommy smirked before patting Eddie's shoulder, Eddie tensing up at the touch.

"Alright," he awkwardly chuckled back, finding your gaze to seek any kind of help you could get from you.

"This is going to be amazing," Tommy rubbed his hands together, grinning from ear to ear, as if he could boss Eddie around and use him just to get some free drugs. 

"No, it’s not,” your tone may have been a bit too dry because every head turned towards you. You gave an uneasy look to Eddie before swallowing and continuing with the rest of your sentence. “because he is not going to bring anything, and we're not coming to this stupid party," you pinched the bridge of your nose, "Steve–can you please just leave us alone for five seconds."

"Never," he almost looked offended upon the request, putting a dramatic hand across his chest. “Y/n, you're my sister. It’s my job to annoy you.”

A beat fell upon the group. Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms around his chest while you huffed. Sibling banter hanging thickly through the air and no one really knowing how to make it go away. Everyone knew both of the Harrington siblings were headstrong, each more stubborn than the other.

It was an entrancing silence only either of you could break. Your eyes drifting towards Barb, she was looking at Nancy uneasily as she fixed her grip on her pink spiral notebook.

"You two are coming?" You questioned, your soft words slithering through the tension and making it evaporate into a mere memory.

"Yes!" Nancy beamed shyly. Barb looked as though she wanted to melt from the spotlight behind her and become one with the squeaky white hallway floors.

Nancy was about to continue, speak to something else but Tommy abruptly cut her off. "My god that's depressing," Everyone’s curiosity took the better of them and followed Tommy’s gaze towards whatever he was looking at behind Nancy. 

Johnathan Byers.

The Byers boy was awkwardly standing, a grim look on his face as he pinned a missing persons poster of his little brother on the board amongst the collection of theater posters and recruiting sheets of random clubs and sports teams.

You and Nancy looked at each other. Her sympathy bled from her hands. She was a good person and somewhere, you’d like to believe you were too even in your stubbornness. 

"We should go and say something," she said hesitantly but steadfastly to do so. 

"I don't think he speaks," Carol raised an eyebrow.

"I bet he killed him," Tommy snickered.

It made you sick. Jonathan’s pain was evident. You saw it in Dustin, you saw it in the boys he had grown so close with… Surely Mike had been upset in the Wheeler house which made Nancy more attune as well. But the fact that Tommy could assume such a thing about a boy, barely a man and no older than the lot of you, made you sick. 

And you wished you hadn’t dropped Eddie’s hand for the sake of comfort. 

~

Will Byers.

If there was a level of sweetness to rank the young boys of Hawkins, Indiana, Dustin would reign supreme but Will Byers would always be fighting for that spo. You figured that if he had disappeared into thin air and most of the town didn’t even think to care. Surely enough that assumption came true. Instead, you had people like Steve who only cared about making out with a pretty girl and throwing a dumb party on a school night and girls like Tammy Thompson who were too busy handing out neon pink flyers for the Spring Fling. 

All the while people like Joyce and Johnathan Byers were being ridiculed for caring about their smallest joy disappearing. 

It all seemed ridiculous. 

Ridiculous that not only Steve and his dumb friends, but most of Hawkins, were only thinking about themselves and what mattered in their lives. If it was a kid from the right side of the tracks, some neighborhood like Nancy lived in, everyone would be looking. There would be vigils and strange prayer groups in hopes that the kid would return. 

It made the grip you had on your bag tighter, knuckles going white as your nails dug into your palm. 

You truly hoped he was ok. 

Because if he wasn’t, you didn't know how you could handle seeing Dustin grieve for his closest friend or how you would be able to compose yourself from the pain. 

Those thoughts of Jonathan and where Will may be plagued you for the rest of the day. At your locker, you had been lost in a train of thought. The idea of Dustin being sad and the town forgetting a kind kid made your mind swirl. 

"Boo!" Two hands were draped over your shoulder, making you jolt out of your thoughts and your heart beat out of your chest. You only relaxed when a familiar laughter echoed behind you, turning around to be met with Eddie's mischevious grin.

"You have to stop doing that!" You playfully slapped his shoulder in return.

"Doing what?"

"Scaring me like this!"

"Come on,” he careened, “you love it and you know it’s fun.”

"Not for me," you bumped your shoulder into his as he had done that morning. This time, Eddie slung his arm around your shoulder and walked with you towards the parking lot. 

A rainbow of cars were parked as always; jocks at the wheels of their brand new convertibles while girls sat at the back, swooning over their million dollar smiles. It was the same every day and would always be the same every year. For god knows how long, the same archetypes would run the halls of Hawkins High and the same things would happen over and over again for generations to come. The same crown prince would date the crowned princess while bullying the misfits.

You wondered if the embroiled, eternal circle of Hell would ever come to an end.

"What are you going to do before the... small gathering?" Eddie’s voice felt relaxing amongst the crowd.

"I need to drop off Dustin at his friend's place and then homework, probably. If Steve allows me some peace. How about you?"

"Walk home… then attempt to read Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh my god! Is Eddie Munson finally going to do this homework!? Oh my god, even better, am I rubbing off on you?”

"Maybe," he smirked.

"Also, why walk?"

"Van's at the garage, problem with the gear shift. I brought it in last night."

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but I mean it's not that far, anyways."

"I could drop you off." 

"You don't have to."

"C'mon! Like this, I can hang out with you and we can work together! I don't think I can stand being in the house alone with Steve right now," you pouted, hooking onto the hopes of being as far from Steve for as long as you possibly could.

"Alright," he smirked. "I'll let you bring me home."

"Good. As long as you don't mind that we bring Dustin home first," you slipped the key into your car door and opened it in a swift move, slipping your bag into the back seat.

"I don't mind at all. He seems cool."

"He is. It's not usually one of my babysitting days but his mom wants to make sure he gets home safe with the disappearance of his friend." 

As if on cue, you heard Dustin's voice calling, screaming, your name in his usual enthusiastic tone and closing you into his traditional bear hug.

"How's my favorite troublemaker going?" you huffed, wrapping your arms around him.

"Doin' good," he mumbled against you. He wasn’t doing good, you knew that. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah."

"Alright," you nodded and pulled away from his embrace. "I'm dropping you off at Mike's, right?” Dustin nodded his head. 

“Also, is it alright if my friend tags along?” You lifted your gaze to stare at Eddie who was awkwardly leaning on your car behind Dustin.

Dustin’s brow scrunched in confusion before following your gaze; his eyes lighting up when he came face to face with the metal head he couldn’t stop babbling about to his friends. He had heard a rumor of a D & D club at the high school he just couldn’t wait to join.

 "You're coming with us!?"

"Yeah," Eddie smiled back, a certain ego boost rising in his chest caused by the stars of admiration apparent in the young boy’s eyes.

"Awesome," Dustin breathed out, as if this was the best news since he read about the announcement of the new Zelda game. You blinked as you registered Dustin's enthusiasm. Somehow, Dustin's best friend was missing but all he could think about was how he was going to be in the same car as his new idol; Eddie Munson.

Dustin waited until everyone was settled; seatbelts fastened and car doors secured shut before popping the question that had been dancing on his lips the second he placed his butt onto your back seat. "So… are you two dating now?"

There was an awkward pause. Eddie looked at you like a deer in headlights, blush creeping on both your cheeks.

You didn't know how to reply. Eddie had made it clear he wanted to go out with you.

You had been acting strangely like a couple for the past few hours. Holding hands in the hallway, stolen kisses in between classes. Your heart beated faster than your thoughts and words escaped you without thinking twice.

"Yeah, kind of," a short smile creeping on your lips as you looked at Eddie for confirmation.

Eddie knew he shouldn’t have felt this relieved when the words left your lips. He had wanted that answer from you with every fiber in his bodyvbut he knew very well this wasn't supposed to be real. This was supposed to never go further than a few planned dates so that Steve could go on dates of his own.

But dammit did he want this to be real. He felt angry and nauseous at the same time, almost close to agony at the mere thought that this had all started around a stupid deal. 

He was beating himself up for not finding you sooner himself.

He knew he had to find a way. 

"OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!!" Eddie’s sulking was quickly shattered by Dustin’s piercing shriek and excited bounces. For a second he was scared the kid was going to hit his head on your car’s beige ceiling yet he seemed to have his bouncing up and down perfectly under control. 

"Dustin-"

"I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS," Eddie smiled a bit at the boy's adoration. He knew this kid was a keeper. A heart of gold to be paired with an amazing mind. He just hoped that once he reached high school, he wouldn’t let people like Steve or Tommy Hagan crush all his hopes and dreams in a single sentence.

Eddie wouldn’t be there to protect this kid. He wouldn’t be there to protect his friends and guide them in the adventure that was high school… he’d go on to bigger and better things and maybe, if life didn’t work out like he’d plan and he still stuck in this hellhole of a town, he’d cross paths with Dustin if he ever needed repairs to his potential future car.

"You two are like perfect for each other!" Dustin continued his happy rambles. 

"Really?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, a grin painted over his features as he turned to meet the kid’s eyes.

"Yeah!" He furiously nodded. "Y/n, I'm so glad you listened to me!"

"Dustin! Please–” you tried to stop the fountain of words that Dustin could spew be when he got overly excited.

"What's that now?" Eddie changed his gaze to you like a curious cat pulling on a string until he unraveled all the yarn laid out in front of him.

"Dustin said we should date–"

"I said you two should date!" The two sentences came out like music, mixing together to echo in the car and scramble together.

Eddie grinned from ear to ear, clicking his tongue as he leaned back against the leather seat, "talking about me behind my back I see."

"Only good things, I promise."

"Well, I'm so glad you finally have a boyfriend. Steve will finally stop bugging you." Dustin huffed, making you giggle.

“Hopefully,” you glanced at Eddie who tried to swallow the lump in his throat at the mention of your brother.

You quickly brought your stare back to the road, blushing when you remembered the use of the word boyfriend. It's not like you had labeled anything yet and Dustin was coming in like a hurricane, ready to pull out every potential seed that he found if that meant you got to be happy and prove a point to Steve. Trying so hard to be your mini wingman, even if it meant he had to annoy or embarrass you in the process. You loved him to bits and knew this was all coming from a place of love, however you were desperate to change the subject.

Whatever was happening with Eddie was too fresh and not something to discuss with a twelve year old. You rummaged your brain for anything to ask Dustin, but everything that came to mind was going to potentially remind him of Will.

"Do you listen to metal?" Eddie’s voice made you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Once again, your savior. 

"I tried to get him to but he says he never has the time to listen to the tapes I give him," you answered for Dustin.

"That's not true!"

"It is true Dustin! When I give you a tape, I miss my tape, so I ask for it back, and it turns out you didn't even listen to it!"

"Ok, fair enough. But I like what you put in the car when you pick me up. Especially the one band that's like… sabertooth something."

Sabertooth something. He absolutely has not, never in his life, listened to a tape you have given him. 

"Black Sabbath?" Eddie questioned. You didn’t know how Eddie even made that connection when you didn’t.

"Yeah! That one!"

"Oh my god, the kid has taste."

Before Dustin could answer, the car came to a stop. You thought you almost heard a whine leave Dustin’s lips when he spotted Mike's house from the passenger window.

“I don’t want to go,” Dustin melted in his seat. “Can I stay with you and Eddie?”

“Dustin, as much as I love you, Mike is waiting for you,” Dustin groaned, making slow moves to unbuckle his seat belt. “Don’t you have a campaign to do?”

“Yeah, yeah…” he mumbled, not giving you a full answer. He was elusive. At this time on any normal day, he’d catch you up on the progress of the campaign and complain about how Lucas or Mike were playing. Dustin said nothing. He just looked at the house in slight concern. Maybe for Will, maybe for something else.

A part of him just wanted to stay with Eddie and yourself. He wanted to know everything about Eddie Munson and find out if the rumors the 8th graders spoke of the Witch King were true. Eddie didn’t even seem like a villain. He didn’t seem like the freak everyone at the malt shop said or the scary metal head the people at the pool gossiped about. 

"Can we hang out with Eddie more often?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we can," you let out a breathy laugh at his expression. "Now go! Mike is waiting for you and don't forget to call your mom! She's going to be worried sick."

"Yeah, yeah," he whined again as he put  his bag on and opened the door. "I'll leave you and your boyfriend alone," he rolled his eyes and swung the door to a close.

"Bye, Dustin!" You waved your hand and he did the same before taking fast steps toward Mike's house.

Silence fell in the car as you watched Dustin waddle his way over to the white door of Mike’s home. His curly hair bounced as he did. He rang the bell and waited, turning around to meet your gaze and giving you his best toothless smile. You waved a last time before the door swung open behind him to reveal Mrs. Wheeler–well dressed as always. She rushed Dustin in, not noticing your car before closing the door which made her and Dustin disappear behind the perfect suburban house.

Neither of you wanted to be the one to break the silence. 

Dustin's happiness still hanging in the air, both your cheeks hurting from his contagious smile. It was far from uncomfortable, sitting in a car with a giddy smile on your lips and Eddie Munson by your side.

"Boyfriend, hm?" Eddie smiled to himself.

"What?" You turned your head to face him, only to see that he was already staring at you.

"He called me your boyfriend."

"Oh yeah..." you felt the heat rise as the word sunk in.

"I like how that sounds, to be honest." Eddie hated himself for speaking. Digging himself a bigger hole than the one he was already trapped in. Yet everything felt so right.

"I kind of do too," you played with the sleeve of your sweater.

Eddie stayed frozen for a moment, contemplating his next move. His gaze was burning on you as he watched your shy demeanor. He was sure you were going to undo the seams of your sleeve by tugging so hard on the loose string, he could see the turmoil of thoughts reflecting on your features and hard focus on anything that wasn’t him. Trying to find an escape.

Eddie stopped you, grabbing your hand in his, the movement making you look up.

He gave you his sweetest smile, making your heart leap in your chest, feeling him lean in. Left hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb grazing over the soft skin of your cheek that was burning from his touch. Not a doubt clouded Eddie's mind as he leaned in to kiss you. Not a single ounce of regret flooded him as his lips moved in sync with yours, his hand holding yours tighter.

He would find a way out of this mess he put himself in.

He had too. 

If not for his own sanity, than for yours.

~

"Is that a Millennium Falcon keychain?" You noticed as Eddie's keys clinked together when he held them up to the door, sliding it into the keyhole.

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled. "You didn't notice it last time?"

"Sadly not," you smiled as he opened the door, waiting for you to get in before he did. He closed it behind you, dropping the keys in the fish shaped key bowl on the counter by the door and sloppily removing his shoes, messily tucking them under said counter. 

You removed your own shoes, dropping your bag next to them before following him further towards the kitchen area.

"Do you want anything to drink? Soda, water?" Eddie opened a wooden cupboard, grabbing two tinted blue glasses and placing them on the counter behind him. 

"Water, please," you spoke, admiring as Eddie grabbed one of the two glasses, filling it with water from the tap before handing it to you first. 

"Here's your water, my lady."

"Thank you very much," you winked, taking a sip before looking over to your backpack. "So, we've got some Shakespeare to read and I have history questions to do."

"I'm afraid so..." He looked at you, defeat evident in his eyes.

"It will be alright!” You cheered, “where do you want to work?"

"In my room?"

"Is this a pretext of getting me in your bed, Munson?" you raised an eyebrow and Eddie froze on the spot. The wheels in his brain coming to a stop as you stared back at him with a cheeky smile. "I'm kidding," you chuckled at the look on his face. "Working in your room is perfect."

"Alright," he gave you a nervous chuckle before opening another cupboard and finding a pack of already opened cookies, placing them on the counter between the two of you.

"Can I ask you a question?" Eddie wondered as he grabbed a cookie from the bottom of the plastic package and handed it to you.

You took the cookie, raising an eyebrow before answering, "go ahead."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" 

"Handle a brother like Steve," you chuckled at the question. 

“I just don’t,” you took a bite of the cookie Eddie had handed you. “You saw what happened Friday. I survive with a brother like Steve, because I genuinely know I cannot do anything to change him.”

"Fair enough," he grabbed another cookie from the pack, taking a bite out of it before dropping it on the counter and turning to the fridge.

"My turn to ask a question,"

"Go ahead," he answered as he grabbed a carton of milk. Closing the fridge before turning back towards you.

"Where were you for a month last fall? Not jail, I hope?" 

Christ. He couldn’t believe you knew he was gone for so long. He didn’t imagine anyone except his five friends knowing he wasn’t there. 

"Why, you’re scared your new boyfriend has a criminal record?" He raised a challenging eyebrow, the word boyfriend still making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"No," you rolled your eyes, watching as Eddie poured himself the milk in his still empty glass. He pointed the carton towards you in a silent question, you nodded, chugging the last of your water down before sliding him the glass. "Couldn't care less, honestly. Just curious, people say so many different things…” You trailed on with a cheeky smile, “jail, short-lived porn star career, cult leader, the list goes on. Forgive me for being curious."

"Definitely none of those," he snorted at your list, dipping his half eaten cookie in the milk and taking a large bite. He waited until he finished chewing and swallowed before answering.

 "I was with um, I was visiting my dad while he was on his deathbed."

"Oh," you looked down at your own glass of milk, you seriously didn't mean to open this can of worms. You had never heard a mention of Eddie’s parents and you seriously didn’t mean to intrude in on something that seemed so private to him.

"Hated every minute, to be honest."

"That bad?" You looked back up.

"Well, you know I didn't always live in the trailer park with my uncle," he wiped the cookie crumbs from his fingers on the side of his jeans before leaning closer to you agasin't the counter, "I use to be in an alright apartment, with both my parents," he reached for your free hand, still splayed on the countertop, "of course, I didn't know we were squatters back then, but then my mom died when I was 8 and my dad left, leaving me here with Wayne." 

"That must have sucked," you let him play with your fingers, a pause settling in before you lifted your gaze and made eye contact with him. It was not an uncomfortable one, almost peaceful as his words hung in the air. 

"Yeah," he made a funny face, "he left and ended up meeting this bimbo who I guess managed to put him on the right track. Made him a new family and shit," that took all the words out of you.

"So yeah, I wasn't in jail, or attempting a porn star career; although I might have preferred to be doing that,” he chuckled. “I was visiting him and his new perfect cookie-cutter family. It was a fiasco," he chuckled to himself. "His new wife didn't want to introduce me to her kids as their brother so I was always baptized as Wayne's kid, their freaky cousin from bum-fuck-nowhere, Indiana. She was throwing daggers at me half the time and I spent most of my days at the neighboring mini golf getting high with the manager."

"You did what?" You smiled at the absurdity.

He matched your smile, "he kept playing Metallica and Ozzy, I had to befriend him. Freaks with freaks, am I right?"

"Yeah," you squeezed his hand, "freaks with freaks."

You didn't know how the air felt so light after what Eddie had dropped on you. Maybe it was the matching look in each of your gazes, or how normal this all felt. A pause lingered in the air. You could tell Eddie had processed this whole crazy situation he had been in. You thought it was a shame he'd probably have to redo a year because of that. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it meant you'd do your Senior year with him by your side.

This brought you back to your purpose of being here with Eddie.

"Maybe we should get to work," you patted his hand.

"Yeah,"

~

"I cannot do this," Eddie huffed, dropping his book on his lap. You watched as the book opened itself like an accordion and fell open on his bed. Eddie roughly leaned his head against his wall, groaning when his head collided against the hard material. 

"What's wrong?" you peaked from your history book.

"This is barely English," he lifted Romeo and Juliet up from his lap and held it by two fingers like it was a dead animal.

"You can read all of Tolkein's work but not Romeo and Juliet?"

"That's different. Tolkein's English is way smoother to read."

"Hm," you smiled, bringing your attention back to the paragraph on the Russian Revolution you were previously reading. Something about the murder of the Romanovs and the supposed victories that followed for the Bolsehviks. "You’ve already read it haven’t you?"

"Yes, but a long time ago. I’m taking my time rereading it," you flipped to the next page, hoping the chapter on the first world war would end there but your eyes fell upon yet another two page section about the consequences of the war on the world. Your eyes quickly danced across a paragraph detailing the problems soldiers faced. You sighed, lazily taping Eddie’s beige carpet with the pink eraser on the back of your pencil. 

"Ugh, I don’t know how you do it." Eddie spoke again after a long beat of silence, a new minute of him trying to focus as much of his strength as he could to make sense of the scrambled letters in his hands. He dropped the book again, and flopped to the side like a dead fish. Letting his head and one of his arms drop by the side of his bed. Staring at you now upside down.

"Dramatic much?"

He groaned in response.

You looked up to him from your place on the floor, giving him a silent laugh as you took in his state. His eyes were closed as another dramatic groan escaped his lips, hands flying on his face in desperation. You bit the eraser at the end of your pencil, contemplating your next move.

"Alright, I’ll help you," you closed your textbook and shuffled to stand up, shaking the soreness out of your legs. Eddie mumbled something barely audible when he heard you move.

You picked the book from the spot it had been thrown and flipped through the pages until ACT 2 was written in bold across the white paper.

"Move aside,” you nudged him, making him roll over so he was correctly placed against his pillow, leaving room for you. You climbed on the bed and moved until you were resting against his side, head cosied up on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Eddie mumbled as he wrapped his hand around your waist, mindlessly starting to draw circles on your exposed skin.

"Reading it to you,"

"You don't have to,"

"I know, but I want to. Like this, I'm rereading it and learning too," Eddie blinked as he stared at the top of your head, intently watching as you cleared your throat.

“Act 2, Scene 2. In Capulet's garden, Romeo enters.” 

“Romeo: But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief,” Eddie felt his breath catch in his throat. When you spoke the words, Eddie could comprehend every meaning behind it, and his mind, against his own will, twisted the meanings to relate them to you. Was he doomed to feel like Romeo?

“Juliet appears at the window,” you continued, and Eddie felt himself squeeze the side of your arm in realization. “Romeo: It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she was! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?” You sighed, expecting any comments from your usually talkative boyfriend, but nothing. You looked up to be met with eyes full of thoughts. 

“All ok up there?”

“Y- yeah,” he breathed, “you make it easy to understand.”

“Hm,” you giggled, cheeks warming up at the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your arm and his lips close to your ear. “Really?” 

He kissed your temple as a reply.

He meant every word. 

Not only does hearing you reading make the words clear in his mind, organizing themselves like the perfect melody Shakespeare meant it to be. But the words resonated with something stronger in him. As if the feelings Romeo was crying out were ripped straight out of his chest and burned into the pages you were holding.

You were holding in your hands what his heart was yearning to scream.

~

“I hate this,” you looked at Tommy’s car from the windshield. You could hear the music playing from the garden and Tommy Hagan’s laughter and to top it off, Steve’s faint voice as he rambled on about whatever had annoyed him that day. 

“It will be alright, I promise,” Eddie offered, grazing your arm with his finger tips in an attempt to bring you some comfort, however, perhaps he was the one who needed it that evening.

He could hear the splash of your pool from the other side of the house, and it made him feel as though he was walking straight through a shark tank. Swimming straight for the enemy that could sense the smallest drop of blood; the smallest crack in his armor.

But you made that armor ten times stronger and there was no way Eddie Munson was going to let Steve Harrington and Tommy Hagan see him bleed. 

“Hm,” your grumble brought him back to the present, watching as you aggressively grabbed your bag and slipped out of your car, Eddie trailing not far behind.

You opened the door to your house, your R2D2 keychain making music as it clinked agains’t the rest of your keys. You grabbed the right key, the biggest silver one out of the 3 that hung around the ring. You reluctantly turned the silver object in the lock, ready to meet your doom.

From the look on your face he thought you were getting ready to fight the battle of Helm’s deep. Ready to fight an endless battle against the most vile creatures of Mordor, no hopes of winning and the odds far from being in your favor.

But the Fellowship did win the Battle of Helm’s deep. 

The door opened to reveal a big but homely house. A variety of shoes stood against the entry hall wall, from Steve’s basketball sneakers to the Reeboks Eddie had seen you wear multiple times. Hagan’s Nikes were next to Carol’s Vans; and you fought the urge to throw in the trash Tommy’s bright green hoodie that hung next to your blue and yellow windbreaker.

“You can take off your shoes and hang your jacket here if you want,” you smiled, pointing to the corner filled with all the clothes of the teenagers currently in the house. You slipped your own shoes off and dropped your bag on a yellow chair by the door to the kitchen. 

You sighed as you watched Eddie remove his own shoes and shrug off his jacket.

“Ready to infiltrate the enemy?” 

“As long as you’re by my side.”

It was everything you knew it would be. A soaked from head to toe Tommy chasing Carol across your parents garden in an attempt to throw her into the pool. On one of the old white sun chairs sat an uncomfortable Barb with a glass of water dancing between her fingers. Steve shared a sunchair with Nancy who was blushing at whatever stupid joke he had whispered in her ear, and in between all of that two packs of unopened beer sat piled on the small black and green garden table.

“This looks… fun?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, watching you roll your eyes and step forward. 

You huffed, barely muttering a hello to your brother and your friends as you ripped the cardboard of one of the six packs open and grabbed two beers. You threw one to Eddie and opened yours, taking a long well needed sip, bracing for their greetings.

“Munson!” Steve cheered, standing up from his spot next to Nancy.

“Harrington,” he nodded a bit stiff as Steve roughly patted his back. “Welcome to the crib!” He chuckled and you wondered how many beers he already had from how loud he was talking. 

Tommy stopped running after his girlfriend once he spotted Eddie, a large grin plastered on his punchable face and hovered towards you.

“Eddie, my man!” Tommy cheered as though he was his new best friend, giving him a handshake before taking a step back and asking, “you got the stuff?”

“Yeah,” Eddie fished for the packet of weed in the back pocket of his jeans before throwing it in Tommy’s hand.

“Thanks man,” he winked before waltzing over to the other corner of the pool where had already prepared some rolling paper and other random tools you couldn’t see from that far. All neatly laid out on a mossy wooden block that your parents had meant to throw away weeks ago.

You laid up on one of the empty sun chairs, eyeing Eddie. You watched him fumble with his hands, awkwardly playing with the can of beer in his hands and looking for something to fiddle with. You’d learn it was a habit of his when he felt nervous. He met your gaze and you silently nudged him to come over. You folded your legs together so he had room to sit in front of you.

You placed a reassuring hand on his thigh, and Eddie placed a ring cladded hand on top of yours. You blew him a kiss before looking to your left to where Barbara and Nancy were still sitting, he intently watched as you gave Barb a short smile and took a new sip of your beer.

“Hey! want some?” Tommy placed the freshly lit blunt in front of Nancy’s face, she politely declined and Tommy shrugged, not caring to make any comments before taking a new drag for himself. He silently asked Barbara but he got the same answer, an answer he expected anyways, and turned around towards you and Eddie.

“I know you won’t say no,” he joked and Eddie tried to hand him a smile as he took the joint out of his hand and took a drag for himself. “It’s good stuff by the way,” Tommy commented as Eddie blew smoke to the side, making sure it didn’t get in your face.

“I know,” he spoke, “but you’re half ruining it by rolling it like that,” he scanned the joint in his hand, inspecting it and indeed seeing the crooked way Tommy had folded it, he almost winced as if Tommy had made damage to something greater than him. “My grandmother rolls better than this, Hagan.”

You watched in amusement as Tommy’s eyes widened in an amused shock, not expecting that comment from the drug dealer in front of him. He was sure he knew how to roll well, he’d been doing it occasionally and most of his friends never complained. 

Tommy stayed dumbfounded and couldn’t answer until the words registered. He shrugged it off, pretending Eddie made false accusations before walking over to the other side of the pool to greedily make a new one to prove to Eddie that he wasn’t as bad as he was saying.

Once Hagan was out of the way and Eddie had already taken one to many drags, you moved your hand towards him, making grabby hands at the stress relieving gold between his fingers. 

He laughed at your eagerness, letting your fingers linger as they brushed against yours to grab your last hope to stay sane tonight.

Your eyes scanned the sky, trying to enjoy the beautiful sunset that tumbled upon the tall Hawkins tree. You wished you could have been elsewhere, maybe at lovers lake, playing truth or dare with Eddie as you sipped on homemade cocktails you threw into to-go cups. 

But as the weeds seeped in and you watched the sky turn from its pink and orange colors, you thought that maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad. Especially if the weed kept tumbling and Eddie stuck by your side.

Steve stole the blunt from you after your third drag, nagging something about how you should keep some for the others. He blew smoke to the side before looking at his watch, sighing before flicking his wrist, making his watch place itself better on his wrist and looked at you, “Y/n/n, do you have any cash on you?”

“No, why?” You threw your head back on the chair to catch his face.

“Because I ordered Pizza.”

“And? You expect me to pay?”

“No, no, totally not,” his lie made you groan in annoyance, wiggling your feet out of their criss-cross position to lay them out across Eddie’s lap. “I was just wondering,” he rolled his eyes, and as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“I have some cash, if you want?” Eddie chimed in, rubbing circles on your ankles as he eyed your brother, and could see Tommy smirking like a madman from the corner of his eye. They all knew where the cash in question was coming from and Eddie felt even more guilty from the knowing looks they were giving him.

“Nah, S’okay, keep your well earned money Munson,” he waved his hand and smirked, Eddie’s chest stinging at the comment.

His gaze went back to you. You said something he didn’t catch to Nancy, happy you had stopped paying any attention to their conversation. 

He just experienced the first shark attack; subtle but all the same painful.

Eddie knew he was playing a dangerous game by being here tonight.

“Eddie, could you help me?” Steve took a last drag of the joint and handed it back to Tommy who was probably going to finish it and light up a new  one by the time they got back with the pizza’s.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie grabbed your ankles, lifting them up from him and back down on the hard panels of the sun chair making you instantly divert your attention back to him.

“Hey, where are you going?” 

“Helping your brother with the pizza’s, baby,” he smiled, kissing your forehead before following your brother into the house. 

You watched attentively as Eddie disappeared behind the glass door, unapologetically checking him out.

“Y/n/n, can I talk to you for a minute,” Barbara broke you out of your staring, making you blink out of whatever trance Eddie had you in.

“Yeah of course, Barb,” 

“In private?” 

“Oh, sure,” you dropped your can of beer on the floor, sliding it under your chair to minimize the chances of it getting spilled by a clumsy Tommy Hagan or Steve.

You fixed your jeans as you stood up, following Barbara down the stone path that led further down towards the forest parts of your garden.

“What’s up?” You questioned, folding your arms together, as if to shield yourself from any of her comments, and maybe from the slight wind that started blowing.

“You’ve got to be careful with Eddie.”

“Why?” You frowned, biting at your nails. “You’ve seen how he is, Eddie’s a sweetheart, Barb.”

She frowned even more than you, “yeah, but don’t you think it’s weird he’s only shown interest in you right around the time your brother got this new rule from your parents? And not only that but Steve has been acting really weirdly these past few days–”

“Barb, it���s Steve,” you cut her off, “he’s always acting weird,” you rolled her eyes and chuckled. A sharp laugh that made Barb look down to her feet. “Eddie makes me happy, okay? That’s all you need to know and that’s all that matters right now, okay?”

“Right,” the white toe of her shoe collided with a small rock on the ground, she rolled it around for what felt like a second too long before speaking again, “just think about it, please?”

“Barb, let’s get back to the party, okay?”

~

“I can’t believe you got my mutant sister to date you, man. Good job, honestly,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his wallet from a wooden console in the hallway and continued his way towards the door. 

Eddie frowned at Steve’s obliviousness. He seemed to be blind to the fact that you were truly infatuated with Eddie, forgetting the part where this was all a twisted deal. This made a new kind of ache rise inside his stomach.

Did your brother really care so little about you?

Eddie’s eyes trailed from the bowl that previously sheltered Steve’s wallet, not half full with keys and other trinkets Eddie didn’t know the use of. He looked up from it and noticed the frames hanging above the furniture. A green wooden frame caught his eye, a picture of you and Steve hugging. You must have been about five and six and Eddie wondered when it all started going down between the two of you. At which point did a flip switch in Steve to become the coldhearted douchebag he was today.

“Parallel universe where we got along,” Steve joked before nudging Eddie to join him by the door. Eddie expected for Steve to open the front door but instead he opened his wallet in half and slipped out two green bills. 

“Here, as promised. That’s for tonight,” he handed Eddie a fifty, the brightest smirk plastered on his traits. He was happy, his investment was paying off. Eddie noticed the other bill was also a fifty, and he hoped he had ordered fifty dollars worth of pizza, because he thought he was going to throw up if it was another payment for another ‘task’ he’d have him do, another place he needed to take you.

“And that’s to take her to the Spring Fling,” Eddie didn’t make a move to grab the money, Steve didn’t seem to care and almost stuffed it into his hand. As if he was a vampire touching silver, Eddie felt the money burn his fingers, “and please, please convince her to go, my parents would never let me if she doesn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah I know the drill, Harrington,” the words felt bitter in his mouth. He stumbled a bit on his words, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to prepare his next words, he was ready to cut the deal off, give him the money back and pretend this deal never happened. 

But Steve opened the door before he could get a word out, and Eddie instantly recognised the delivery boy as a client of his.

A young redhead who had graduated Hawkins High a year ago, he remembered learning that he was saving for college with his job at the one Surfer Boy Pizza location Hawkins had, but Eddie also knew that he was using a crazy amount of his savings on weed, and other shit, because half of the profit he’d made in the last few months came from him alone.

“Oh! Hey, Munson!” The boy’s face lit up when he recognised his dealer, “didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Makes two of us,” Eddie offered a smile, grabbing half of the pizza boxes while Steve handed him the money and grabbed the rest of the boxes himself, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yep,” the redhead grinned and Steve bidded him goodbye before closing the door with his foot.

“Thanks for the help,” he muttered, trotting to the back of the house. Eddie watched as Steve skillfully opened the door with his elbow, and the cool spring air hit his face again.

“Pizza's here!” Everyone cheered, and the two boys dropped the boxes on the now empty sunchair that used to host you and Eddie minutes prior.

You walked up to Eddie, melting at his side as he draped an arm around your waist. 

“Did my brother annoy you?”

“No,” Eddie chuckled, a little awkwardly, his eyes darting to Steve who was circling the garden to turn on the lights.

The sky was darker now, night starting to shine in all its glory, taking it the reassurance of sunlight with it. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood though, weed had started to take over and the first beer pack had already disappeared into a pile of empty cans. 

This was going to be a long night.

~

“So, you and Eddie hmm?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it so is my business.” Steve had the biggest smile on, the smile only faltering as he took another sip of his beer, chugging the end in one go.

"Oh, but it so isn't,” you caught Eddie’s eye from the other side of the pool, he was teaching Tommy how to roll a proper joint.

You watched as Eddie smiled, a freshly rolled joint in between his fingers while Tommy was grumbling something you couldn’t understand. Eddie, shrugging before standing up, tucking the cigarette on his ear as he made his way to you. 

Tommy’s ego seemed to have calmed down and his thoughts soon caught the attention of something else. A devilish glint in his eyes as he ran across the pool and grabbed Carol by the waist, threatening to throw her in the pool. 

She screamed, a piercing scream that made almost everyone giggle–even you. 

“Stop it Tommy! Don’t!” She screamed until she was back on her two feet and you kind of wished he had thrown her in.

Steve left your side to grab a beer, piercing a hole through the bottom before opening the can and chugging it in one go. He made eye contact with you, throwing you one and you grabbed the knife closest to you to do the same. You watched as Steve slung himself across one of the lounge chairs by Nancy, trying to be as cool as possible but his poor attempts weren’t invisible. 

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes at your brother’s nonchalance.

Eddie grabbed a beer, not paying any mind to Nancy and your brother as he made his way to you. You stood up from your sunchair and Eddie almost told you to stay put. That he’d just sit on the floor next to you but your actions were faster.

You made him sit down and you didn’t hesitate one second to sit on his lap, making yourself comfortable against him, legs tangling with each other on the extension of the chair. 

“This is way more comfortable than the floor,” he whispered in your ear as his arm found its way across your waist. 

“I know right?” You brought him into the most tender kiss, the way he made you feel all soft and mushy on the inside seeping through. 

He smiled once you leaded away, smiling as you grabbed the swiss knife back from the garden table next to you and imitated your brother’s earlier actions–piercing a hole at the bottom of your can, and opening it, chugging the whole thing in one go.

“Oh, is this some kind of Harrington super power?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, making you laugh. 

“Maybe, maybe,” you laughed and Eddie did too. The sounds of laughter are contagious to each other. You bumped your forehead into the side of his head lovingly and Eddie could feel your smile against his cheek.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” you whispered. “Without you, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now. Probably planning my next murder attempt on Steve,”

“Oh, because there’s been a first one?”

“A few.” 

“Very metal of you, baby.”

“Hey, Barb, are you ok?” Nancy’s voice caught your attention, snapping you out of your bubble. 

You watched as Barb clutched her hand, blood dripping out of it.

“I’m fine,”

“Barb, you’re bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine,” she shrugged Nancy’s help off and turned to Steve. “I’ll just go, clean up,” she nodded and you stood up from your spot in Eddie’s arms, grabbing her shoulder before she could take a step further. 

“Hey Barb, I’ll go help you wrap that up. It doesn’t look good.”

“I’ll be fine Y/n/n, I don’t need your help,” she muttered, almost bumping into your shoulder before disappearing behind your back door.

“Awkward,” Tommy snicked, trying to relieve the tension. It made Carol and Steve laugh while you and Nancy shared a worried glance. This wasn’t like Barb at all. 

But the tension quickly dissipated. Tommy knew very well what to do to save the night and pushed Carol into the pool only to  jump after her. Steve did the same with Nancy and you took it as your cue to grab Eddie’s hand, making him leave his spot on your uncomfortable chair and jump with you in the pool. 

The water felt colder than you expected. You hadn’t been in the pool since September, even if you had reopened and cleaned the pool only about a week ago, and the air still held on to the bits of winter, persuading you to stay in the comfort of your bedroom instead of taking a swim.

Barb seeped out of everyone’s minds as water splashed across the space. Steve splashing Nancy but the hit also falling onto you and Eddie who tread behind her. 

The six of you fell into a loud water fight, making the concrete slabs beside of your pool sopping wet and the water even reaching the empty pizza boxes that were all cramped up in a corner by your small garden table. 

You were so enthralled in watching Nancy trying to swim away from the menace that your brother could be, that you didn’t realize Eddie was behind you, making an easy strike as he grabbed you, enveloping you in his arms and pulling you closer by the waist. You squealed before you realized it was him, your back hitting his chest. You quickly melted in his embrace as his lips hovered the shell of your ear.

He whispered something you unfortunately didn’t catch over everyone's screaming, so you turned around in his arms to ask him what it was but by the time you were face to face with him, he pulled you into a kiss and dragged you down under the water with him, taking you by surprise. You pulled away, letting out a surprised breath under water, bubbles seeping out to climb the surface, but you quickly registered the gesture, and pulled him back into the kiss. 

You were both laughing messes once you reached the surface, panting from being deprived of oxygen. Eddie pushed some wet locks out of your face, staring at you with star filled eyes. 

A certain melancholy seeped through him as he watched you in awe–mesmerized by you. Your eyelashes filled with droplets of water, and your hair going crazy. He got closer, whispering something you this time heard loud and clear.

“Where were you all my life?”

You felt yourself grabbing his shoulder; a way to anchor yourself because if you didn't, you didn’t know how you could keep your knees from buckling and keep yourself from drowning. The water might have been freezing cold, but your entire body felt like fire under his touch.

“Right here,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting your forehead against his.

“Why so far?” Butterflies rose to your stomach and even though the others were screeching and screaming behind you, you felt like it was only you and Eddie, holding each other in the corner of your pool.

“Hey lovebirds!” Of course, Tommy had to break the moment, sending a giant wave of water towards the two of you, making you snap out of your love spell and back to harsh reality.

~

“Here,” you grabbed one of your blue striped towels from the pool shed and handed it to Eddie.

“Thank you,” he placed it around his shoulders. He watched intently as you grabbed your own towel and started wrapping yourself around it, closing the pool shed right after. 

You gazed up, watching as Steve and Nancy went inside the house, towels of their own wrapped around their shoulders, Carol and Tommy quickly following. 

You shivered. The briskness of night setting in, reminding you this was only a random Wednesday night of April. It wasn’t a time to swim or take a dip in the pool just for kicks–It was spring as it barely emerged from a winter that you wished had morphed into the endless summer nights where the sun stayed high longer and you wouldn’t freeze the second you exited the pool.

“C’mon, let’s get you some dry clothes.”

Eddie nodded, and followed you in, noticing the way your damp hair swooshed with the wind as you walked, and the way you smiled as the warmth of the house engulfed you whole the second you stepped inside.

Eddie walked in after you, and you made sure the door was closed before wrapping your hand around his and walked further into the dim lighted room, right until you reached the brightly lit corridor.

“Hey Barb,” you frowned as you saw her, standing by your front door. “Everything ok?” 

She watched with big eyes as your hand wrapped around the white railing of the staircase, other hand wrapped around Eddie’s as he trailed behind you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed it, watching as Eddie pressed the towel he held in his free hand against his wet curls, frowning at the redhead before him. 

Even he knew she was lying. 

“Where’s Nance?” You asked, perched up on the third step while Eddie played with the wet belt loops of your jeans, intently watching as you tried to know more of the reason behind your friend’s frown.

“Upstairs with your brother.”

“Ah,” you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek in thought. 

“I’m going to go home,” she looked down at her shoes averting yours and Eddie’s gaze as best she could.

“You sure?” You frowned again, and Eddie squeezed the side of your waist in an attempt to sooth your thoughts. “Eds and I are just going to get dry clothes and then we’ll come back downstairs. We could play Uno?” You offered, remembering when you’d pull out your Uno deck at any given chance during boring school field trips, Nancy always complaining because she was so bad at it while Barb often took the win.

You could see the hesitancy in her eyes, memories flashing before her. “Thanks, but it’s late,” she cleared her throat and fixed her glasses. 

You knew there was something else behind her voice, a sort of strain that told you ‘I don’t want to be more of a bother than I already am’. 

“Alright, well, be careful ok?” You smiled and started making your way back up the stairs, Eddie nodding to Barb before following you up. 

“Oh, and Y/n/n,” she caught your attention before you could reach the last step, waiting until you met her eyes before continuing; “please think on what I’ve told you,” your gaze softened and you had to prevent yourself from looking at Eddie, not to raise any suspicion that he was the lead subject of her words.

You had no intent on doing so, but just to give her a piece of mind you spoke, like a dance in the wind, “I will Barb, promise. Get home safely.” 

You saw her shoulders slump from the corner of your eye as you climbed the last step, before taking a left towards your room.

“Well, since Steve is occupied, I can’t ask him for anything,” you looked behind you as you opened the door to your bedroom, Eddie’s big eyes intently staring back, “but I do own oversized band tees and stole a pair of sweats from Steve two weeks ago so you could use that?” You offered and Eddie couldn’t help the laughter that tumbled out of him at the proposition.

“That would be more than perfect.”

The door of your bedroom closed behind you with a soft thud, and Eddie found himself mesmerized by how similar your bedrooms were. Posters against posters, and a huge shelf with more fantasy books than Eddie could count. His mind went back to the first time Steve sat at the Hellfire table, while Eddie read through the list of books he’d found in your room. Indeed Steve hadn’t been lying, and the list he’d read on the crumpled white paper with Harrington’s sloppy handwriting found itself manifesting on your wooden shelves. 

His eyes scanned every shelf and he found himself ogling at your Tolkein collection–all hardbacks with different colors and the recurring T symbol. Eddie had never seen such a beautiful collection of Tolkein’s work. 

“My uncle gave them to me before he died, they’re pretty cool, don’t you think?” 

“I think I’m falling in love with them,” you chuckled at his antics.

“Some of them are signed.”

“No way, can I?” He pointed towards the collections.

“Of course, Eddie. The Hobbit is signed if you want to see.”

Eddie pulled out the blue book in awe, fingers delicately dancing across the pages.  

“You should see mine,” he smirked, “ripped out front covers and dead spines. I accidently burnt the first page of the two towers because I was smoking while reading, and Oliver, so not accidentally dropped his chewed gum in the middle of my Hobbit book.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow at the absurdity.

“He was mad because I accidentally scratched his guitar.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be mad if he stretched your Warlock?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. His was an old guitar that didn’t ring well, he was about to get a new one, anyways,” Eddie rolled his eyes before he continued to scan your shelves. “Oh my god, is that a mini replica of the millennium falcon?” He placed the copy of your hobbit back on the shelf, and grabbed the Star Wars miniature, eyes wide like a child who discovered his new favorite toy.

“Yeah,” you smiled as you opened your cupboard, scanning the shelves for the sweat pants and shirt you had promised Eddie. You threw two oversized Metallica shirts on your bed, and found sweatpants for you before finally getting your hands on Steve’s gray sweatpants. “I got it last summer when we went to California,” you spoke, grabbing the biggest shirt out of the two and the gray pants, handing them to Eddie as he placed the small figurine back on your shelf. 

“I love it,” he kissed your cheek, thanking you for the clothes.

“Bathroom is in the corridor, first door on your left,” you pecked his lips, watching him as he scurried out of your room.

You sighed, a giddy smile on your lips as you changed into dry clothes of your own. When Eddie came back, he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming the room. There was so much stuff he wasn’t sure where to look first. 

He saw a stuffed Chewbacca on your bed, right by where your head laid, and snatched it from the spot. He sat at the edge of your mattress, turning it to you and making Chewbacca noises.

“You know what, Chewie? I agree,” you played along and Eddie continued his Chewie noises as if the doll was speaking.

You giggled, grabbing the plushie from Eddie and scooting yourself closer, kissing him silly. 

Eddie’s hand found its place on your waist, pulling you closer but the kiss was broken by your ever growing smiles.

“You’re so silly, you know that?” You muttered, smiling like an idiot.

“And that’s why you like me so much.” 

“You’re right,” you kissed him again, lips melting with him and moving in perfect sync. It was everything your previous kisses weren’t. Passionate and burning with envy as your hand found its place in his hair, gently tugging on his curls. Eddie groaned in your mouth as you continued gently pulling onto his locks, making a moan leave your own lips.

Eddie thought he was going to go crazy. His hand traveled up your thigh, pushing you up so you sat on his lap, hungrily kissing the corner of your lips before continuing his way down your jaw.

"Come to the dance with me," Eddie mumbled against your skin, kisses trailing lower until he found the spot that made you shiver.

"What?" You half moaned from the attention he was giving you and half chuckled at the absurdity of the question.

"Come to the dance with me," his voice was more serious now, a slight pant in his breath. He stopped what he was doing and straightened up, eyes leveling with yours.

"No, no, I heard you. Why?" You pushed a strand of hair away from his eyes. “I thought you hated that kind of stuff, because I definitely do.”

"Gareth is going with a girl he really likes and he doesn't want to be the only Hellfire guy there," he half lied. Oliver was going too but you didn't need to know that, yet.

You sighed, fingers dancing across the Metallica writing on the chest of his shirt.

“Eds-”

“Think about it, please?” 

You bit your lip, looking up to meet his big chocolate eyes, peering at you almost like a lost puppy; how could you refuse him anything when he looked like that. “I’ll let you know, Eds,” you bit your lip. “No promises.”

“Alright,” he breathed out, one ringed hand reaching up to cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek and you felt yourself melt into his touch again. 

You leaned in, breaths mixing together until your lips brushed each others, melting back into a kiss–this time it was more desperate, he kissed you with a gentle urgency and you were already breathless in his mouth as you felt his fingers brush your bare skin under the soft material of your shirt. His hand itched to travel upwards, but the deal was still tugging at the back of his mind, like a faint melody, haunting him. 

But that melody was just a faint whisper as you repositioned yourself on his lap, now straddling him as the kisses only grew hungrier, more desperate. Desperate to get closer, to feel him against you as much as you could.

Your mind was all Eddie, and you didn’t mind one bit. 

In fact you were welcoming his ever hypnotising presence, letting you melt and engulf in everything that he was–you fitted together like pieces of a puzzle, and the words he’d spoken to you while you were enveloped in the cold water of your swimming pool resonated again through you; ‘where were you all my life?’

Where had he been all this time? Your knight in shinning black armor. You wondered if life would have been easier if he had been by your side earlier. If the nagging from Steve and the bullying from his friends would have effected you less if you had each other–if you had been there to protect one another from the jungle that was Hawkins High. 

The cold metal of his rings agains’t your waist brought you back to the present–and suddenly you knew you weren’t going to be alone in the treacherous sea of Hawkins, that you didn’t need to be scared of the sharks anymore. That you would have no more use for the walls you had spend all these years building. That you could take a break from your Heinous Bitch alter ego.

But as the moment went on, Eddie already knew where this had taken a turn–the nagging melody only grew louder, and he felt himself come back to his sense–as if waking up from the intoxicating hold you had on him. 

Suddenly, he felt guilty for the way he was touching you and pulled his hand from the soft skin of your waist as though it was burning him. His heart knew this was right, but his mind knew it was wrong–and Eddie felt himself get torn apart the more your lips danced together in perfect rhythm.

He hummed against your lips, in an attempt to wake you from the same daze that he had abruptly been ripped away from.

"We- we should stop,” the words left his lips before he could over think more than he was already constrained too. “I- I should go." He looked at your face, his own fake smile flailing at the hurt your eyes held. 

“What?” You panted, pushing yourself back so you could take a better look at him, trying to understand what made him stop his actions “Eddie-” you grabbed his shoulder, hoping it would keep him here, anchor him back to you.

But instead he offered you the poorest of excuses; “It’s getting late,” you only registered that he had moved you away from his lap and back onto the bed when you watched him stand up, and pace around to gather his things, “we have school tomorrow, remember?” 

“Since when do you care about school?” You half joked, hoping this would help Eddie give a clearer explanation to his sudden need for his departure. You watched as Eddie snorted from your truthful comment, but patiently waited for more words to fall out his mouth.

“Since I’ve got a pretty girl helping me with my homework,” he approached, hoping to ease the tension. He came over to you with a genuine smile and bopped your nose, fingers lingering on the soft skin of your cheek.

"Eddie,” you muttered, barely audible, and Eddie felt a new pang of guilt eat him up as he watched you–head falling down as you grabbed his other hand and played with his rings. “Why do every time I take a step forward you take two steps back?" 

He froze–all thoughts fleeting out of his brain, threatening to shut his system down. He knew why, but he could never tell you, he didn’t know what he should even tell you. What words he could use to not dig himself a bigger hole and discern the trust it took so long gaining.

 "You chase me around and when I finally cave in, you push me away?" Your mind flashed back to the first time you had tried to kiss him–when he had dropped you off after that damned party.

"I just-" He whispered, hoping he would find a quick way to defrost from the prison of his thought, trying to scrape at the sanity he was holding on to, trying the situation. "I want to take things slow with you," your frown only deepened. 

"Sweetheart, I really really like you, and everything is happening so fast," the second part of this sentence couldn’t be so far from the truth; hell he could marry you tomorrow and he’d be the happiest man on earth. 

He heard your sigh and was too cowardly to look at you. Fear lay heavy on his stomach the more this went on; traveling to his heart and seeping into his chest to spread all over him. Killing him softly with every passing minute. 

He wished he had called the deal off hours ago when he had the chance. Give Steve his money back before he even opened the door for the delivery man; and maybe, just maybe tonight would have been different and guilt wouldn’t be eating him up like it was now.

“Ok,” you nodded, trying to hide the small ache that had started in your own chest.

You were going to try and say something else; bid him good night and tell him you’d see him tomorrow, hoping that sleeping on this whole situation would make it better for the both of you, give you answers to his behaviorvbut a loud, unrecognizable noise screeched from the garden. 

"Did you hear that?" Eddie’s head snapped towards your window.

"Yeah,” you stood up, pushing the curtains open without a second thought. You both peered down, but saw nothing. The water of the pool was still, the lights creating shadows at the bottom and stray leaves dancing ontop the water. 

Eddie turned his head towards you, “what do you think it was?” 

“I don’t know,” you frowned, fingers dropping their grip on the soft material of your curtains once you had finished scanning the whole area visible from your small window.

You looked up to meet Eddie; not really knowing what to do with the silence dancing across the two of you. 

“You should go,” you offered a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.”

“Y/n,” Eddie grabbed your wrist before you could move. “I really, really, like you, you know?” He breathed out, a hint of desperation in his voice that made you smile. 

You leaned into his touch, taking a step forward, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

“I really like you too, Eddie.”

“Good.”

“Good,” you repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[bakuhoes-dumbass]

OKAY NERDS iM BaCk! Soo if they all escaped like the whole power outage happened and all of that. Y/N got out of the facility before any of them could get to her (IDK HOW MAN BUT YK, Y/N IS A BADDIE SOO) So after like a month passes and Y/N is like jogging or some shit idk but how do you think each one of the guys would capture Y/N?

Oh ho ho, Mochiiii I love this. Aight let's get into it.

These are NOT cannon to the story line.

Warnings: Yandere Headcannons ahead. If you are uncomfortable with these types of things, DO NOT READ. Proceed with caution, as I do not feel bad if you choose to do so while being warned.

MINORS, DNI.

~~~

Tokoyami- He was disappointed when you ran away but he didn't go all crazy. He just accepted that he'd have to find you again and make you see he wasn't as insane as the rest of them. But day after day, it became harder to be without you. His light... The star that lit up his night... He was upset. So so upset. So that one night when he saw you for the first time after a month, he didn't even try to hold Dark Shadow back as it reached for you, pulling you into his darkness for good.

Kirishima- Where are you Where are you Where are you, Where is his Pebble?! Kirishima would be tearing down the facility trying to find you. Finally figuring out you were gone, he would stop at nothing to get you back. What he didn't expect was for it to take a MONTH! So when he saw you jogging one night, his immediate instinct was to run. Run after you as fast as he could til he caught you. He hardened his arms and that's when you knew you never again could escape him.

Hawks- Oh baby bird~ Where did you run off to~ He practically sings as he searches for you. Once he figured out you ran, he wasn't too bothered. He was a mafia leader for fucks sake. As soon as he escaped, he had his people do some digging. Eventually they found your location and he set off. He found you taking a jog one night and without hesitation, he immediately swooped down and grabed you in his arms. Don't struggle, my baby bird. There's no where for you to run anymore.

Tamaki- Oh no. Nononononono. Bunny?! B-Bunny, where did you go?! He immediately had a panic attack when you left. How could you?! The only one who was ever nice to him, accepted him. You were his, he was yours. He had to find- H-he had to f-f-find you! But it took a month. A month without you. If he was insane before, he's a maniac now. So when he finally stumbled upon your jogging figure, it was instinct. It's almost like his body had a mind of it's own. Well... his tentacles, anyway.

Overhaul- Huh. That was weird. His little germ is...gone? Where did you go? You should be on your knees below him. But no, you weren't. It took him a whole month to find you, with the help of his followers. That's when he decided to pay you a little visit, waiting at your house til you came home from your jog. He threatened to kill every person in your neighborhood if you didn't come with him. You agreed with reluctance. And once again, he had you on your knees before him. This time, you weren't going anywhere.

Shoto- Y/N? Where'd you go? Poor boy is so lost. You left? Why? His eye twitches as he searches the facility for you but you were nowhere to be found. Did he do something? Why would you suddenly leave him? Did he scare you? For a month, he couldn't figure out why you left him. It haunted his every move. After he escaped, he walked the streets, nothing on his mind but you. So one night, when you took off for your routine jog, why were your feet suddenly encased in...ice?

Dabi- Oh, mouse wants to play a little game, hm? Well, guess he could be the cat in this game of tag with you. He is amused, to say the least. He enjoys games where he knows how the outcome will be. So the moment he sees you jogging down the street, he knew he won this game. You were shocked, to say the least, when a wall of blue flames block your path. But the shock turned into terror when you felt a hand tightly grip the back of your neck.

Bakugo- Where. THE FUCK. Did you go? He completely rips apart the facility trying to find you. And the moment he realizes he can't, all hell breaks loose. He's probably the reason the entire facility burnt to the ground. His angel, gone. No where to be found. What if something happened to you? What if someone hurt you? He wasn't going to stop til he found you. Well, it came as a shock to him when he found you perfectly healthy a month later, on your nightly jog. Within a split second, you hear explosions going off behind you and before you could react, your body was thrown to the ground, a growling blonde on top of you.

Denki- Sad pup. Very very sad pup. You left him?! Why?! He's such a fun person and would be an amazing boyfriend! He pouts around the facility, sparks crackling around him. Even more pouty when he couldn't find you. But he never gave up. He was finally able to escape and go searching for you. A month later, you think you're safe. So you leave the house to go for a jog. But you barely take 5 steps before a crackle of lightning hits the ground in front of you. Before you can turn around, you feel arms wrap around your middle and a shock runs through your body, before blacking out.

Midoriya- His darling left him and he is so very worried. Very worried. Are you hurt? Were you scared of him? Did...did someone take you for themselves? He investigates every person in the facility but no one had you. Day after day, his mind gets worse. His worries increase. So, about a month later, when he actually finds you outside? He can't help but let out a squeal of glee. He's fast, very very fast. The next thing you know, you're tackled to the ground in a tight embrace. And god... is it TIGHT.

Shinso- Oh, kitten. You made a very. Very. Bad decision. He doesn't know HOW you got away from him in the first place but he WILL bring you back. The longer it takes to find you, the angrier he becomes. After a month of nothing, he was finally, FINALLY able to locate you with his connections. You think you're out for a late night jog? Well, when you hear your friends voice call to you, you didn't expect your mind to be wiped clean. All you can see is him step in front of you with a manic grin. But you can't do anything. No movement, no noise. Nothing except silent tears falling down your cheeks.

~~~

Read the story these headcannons are based off HERE!

~~~

All works are mine (bakuhoes-dumbass), do not copy or repost anywhere.

[danger-noodle-uwu]

This is a pretty graphic idea I had but I understand if you don’t want to do it or find it too triggering.

I want to request hc’s of the Brothers + Datables (but if you do the Brothers and Datables separately than just the Brothers please) reacting to MC being summoned but MC’s covered in blood and holding a weapon like a bat or knife, because they massacred their abusive family and they don’t feel bad about it at all. Mc’s pretty emotionally hollow and they don’t show much reaction or fear to dangerous situations either since the Bros do start off threatening and rude but they relate to Mammon since he’s emotionally abused by his Bros and physically punished by Lucifer.

This is only if you feel comfy doing it and I apologize if I broke the rules and making you find it very triggering and disturbing

Trigger warning!

Mentions of blood/murder/abuse

Do not proceed if sensitive

Lucifer

At the summoning part, Lucifer would be merely worried about what type of student has diavolo choosen, pitying his taste. Though he was but a demon, weary and skittish around you.

The Avatar of pride scared of mere human?

(Though he kinda was)

Blood being spilled on the floor was common in devildom yet he was unfazed.

But now, things are different and he can't help to worry about how this weak creature will influence on his brothers.

the fallen-morningstar tried to keep you away from the entire of his brothers including himself.

He also made sure that never was anything that could be used as a potential weapon surround you.

Often the man would receive rather harsh words from you and get somewhat hurt. Yet , not a single cry reach your ears.

(Que enemies to lovers dynamic)

When the pair started dating, the raven-haired demon had already known the past and what it once held for mc...

Oh how much he wishes, he helped you instead of interrogating every movement, to regain the 'you' that your parents killed. So, he will find a solution. To find those rascals in the realm of spirits or demons and put them once again at your mercy.

Prepare yourself Mc. For a whole month of pampering and love as he will never dare repeat the mistake he made.

Mammon

As the story is, Mammon didn't encounter you first but only heard melody of your voice.

The first meet was unforgettable, he was petrified to see the blood dripping off your slender bruised figure.

One thought that he was scared however, No he was anything but scared. He had thought you were the one hurt like--you know h-how Lucifer hurts him.

He rushed towards you but was stopped by the eldest saying " They aren't hurt." And this was the first person tried who befriend you.

When your words were sweetly aimed at him and just HIM. He'd feel his heart beat racing like crazy which made him believe he thought you found him special.

He was never honest with anyone, until you showed up. His biggest fear was snapping because of the mean comments his brothers pass and you had probably done something similar.

He wanted to know. Though dense he may seem, he hoped you'd tell him.

Was it scary? Do you feared this before? Is it still scary? Do you feel emotions after this?

Yet he never asked...

When the greedy Boi and mc started dating, they told everything about their condition. Of how they snapped.

He was the most understanding of his brothers and promised to never let another one harm you. Not even you.

He loved even more since that day. Not to mention 1323433454455686 'I love you's per day.

Leviathan

Blabbering lord knows what, Leviathan had stepped out of his room even if that was to scold mammon and get his money back.

He obviously knew about the exchange program but what he didn't know was that bloody murderer would be part of it!!!

He wasn't moving when he saw the numb expression you wore and the bloody knife you had held.

Inside, he was scared shitless but he didn't know how to show it.

A mere-human had terrified The great admiral of hell's navy. What shame he was.

"Oi cut it out!" Yelled the scummy yet kind demon protectively moving between the two.

In the beginning, he felt unsafe only by your gaze and refusing to make eye contact.

And then, a good day to exit to his room. The true reason being the pearly raindrops that had littered the gardens of HOL.

He saw you... soaking wet smiling and hurting... shining brightly though it felt dim.

That day. That dammed day. He found out who truly were. A beautiful person who was just hurting and breaking.

Since then, he has been a mix of a nagging mother but also shy as if a touch-me-not.

Dating him was heavenly, he wasn't shy with touch yet words were a whole another thing to him.

He always left 'Love you's in the chats and reminders on your phone that were just a bunch of 'eat healthy' 'stay safe', etc.

And this was certain that his love will never end.

Satan

Snatching the bat from your hands, the blonde-man threatened to kill you with your own weapon if you dared to move.

And that's exactly what you wanted... to die... to end the suffering...

And he saw it.

Saw how horribly you were hurting, he knew what it felt however, he couldn't lose his composure not in front of his brothers.

Wrath is a storm which is followed by pain. He knew this. Same in your case except pain knocked the doors first.

He knew it was too early for asking. So, he kept his mouth shut. Not wishing to hurt you any further though he didn't know why he felt this way.

When you finally finished your 2nd month in your new home, things had changed as the Avatar of wrath often talked to you not about how bloody you arrived or you had killed but are you okay now?

His words were soft. So sweet.

Each time he would offer you his shoulder to cry on, you would feel your heart slowly warm up. Slightly more each-time.

Soon enough you started dating the green-eyed pact demon of yours, recalling the long lost feeling of warmth and love.

The knowledgeable one loved to show physical affection especially in front of his brothers.

Oh~ the smell of their burning envy, when he kissed the nape of your neck and complimented you.

Post-its were his favorite though.

He would often write 'Love you, kitten' 'take break,love' 'you look amazing today',etc.

Asmodues

He yelped when he saw a bloodied figure emerge from the purple haze. Are they okay?

He was concerned only till a knife was spotted next your seemingly heartless figure. Now, he was somewhat hiding behind satan in disgusted yet anxious way.

You gaze deeply disturbed him to an extent he even had nightmares of you ripping him open with same knife and had that soul-less expression.

He much like Leviathan refused to see you after the encounter but what was different, was the course of events...

He saw you arguing with Lucifer, for you refused let him hurt Mammon who curled behind you.

Asmo felt pity for you as he knew the outcome of an argument with the eldest.

"Lucifer don't hurt him, please. He already has enough bruises" Asmo says giving his sweet brother Luci the puppy eyes, hoping they would work. (Yeah they didn't)

But nonetheless Luci~ still backed out and left the hallway.

You rush for the poor injured demon, he is crying while thanking you for the save.

And there for one moment, The lustful blond saw emotion in those glassy eyes of yours. It was beautiful and aching at the same time.

Making him greedy for more...

Later the very same day, he approached you finally asking the questions his head was haunted by.

What was weird? He didn't blame you for breaking instead he complimented you for being a survivor of such harsh tortures.

Accepting his confession was the best thing you ever did.

He is open with affection especially when you both are in public to show he is yours. You are his. You belong together.

for his hunger to see those pretty eyes shine with joy is endless, he makes Mc smile with happiness and love

Beelzebub

Famished as always was the sixth born. Especially after smelling human blood.

Little did he know the blood of the now dead parents of mc, the exchange student.

He wasn't even fazed unlike his brothers. He couldn't care any less than he did nor about the blood neither about the weapon clutched in your hands.

Even if you passed insults, he wouldn't mind. Sometimes, he asks why you dislike him? And is fine even if the answer is illogical. (Don't fuckin hate him)

Numb eyes. Tears flowing freely. Cuts. Bruises. Hurting. Dying inside.

The glutton wipes the sweat off his forehead remembering the condition of yours in that horrendous nightmare.

You looked awfully similar to belphi when- when s-she died. He blamed himself and hurt himself for being so useless. Just like you do.

And then realization hits--

YOU ARE HURTING!!

He now knew why your rude words didn't hurt him because you were like belphegor trying to protect your fragile heart.

Why you look numb? because you're trying to hide the pain. Push people away so you don't get hurt when they go away.

The following day, you were gently woken by the huge teddy bear. He held a hand out for you before taking you to his room for the special breakfast.

You teared upon the sight instantly realizing that he recognized your suffering. He apologized for not noticing earlier and from now, he will be there for you.

Never in the three realms did he think he'd fall for you? Maybe he had all along just didn't notice....

Once you begin dating the orange-head, he was ecstasic and cheerful all the time. Encouraging words followed you everywhere.

He would often eat the entire fridge out. So as apology, a cupcake with sorry written on it was placed on the kitchen counter. Other days, when he won't go such extreme, carrot chips or a poison apple etc. Waited for you.

Beely is the opposite of possessive. Protective. He is Protective and supports you through the ups and downs in life. He was your true savior. A savior who never judged you for your past.

His Love is the sky, you learned to fly in.

Belphegor

He had heard the tale of how the human exchange student had shown up covered in blood with a bat in hand.

Never did he believe that it was true until seeing the monotone figure of them.

The way they spoke made them like Lucifer. Emotionless. Heartless. Ruthless. Monster.

He wanted to strangle them on spot but he was stuck within the confines of the attic.

The sloth couldn't help passing comment making mc slowly reveal the aching heart of their own-self.

Expression faultered and he saw it--No, no more like felt it. The way their tears were swallowed. The way their voice turned monotone once again to cover what had already been seen.

However, the seventh born didn't say a word, he just showed affection through body language as they couldn't touch each other yet.

After he was free from the prison of an attic, he ran to you. His star. The one that guided him out to freedom.

It felt weird dating the lazy demon. Afterall, he was doing nothing other than shoving compliments in your face and dozing off here and there.

Few months pass and things become smoother than how they were.

Now, he always compliments you but softly and sweetly. Always willing to listen to whatever you wanna rant about.

"You are my true love, Mc. The star that guides to where I belong when I'm lost."

-------------------------------------------------------

Welp! That was long as hell. Anyway, thank you for the request. It kinda feels like you and my sister share the same brain cell cuz she said the same thing but like- mc ate their organs and more messy. God I hope you like it...

Good day!

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 4

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: mentions sexual experiences of reader before she was of age, discussion about sex lives, flirting, touching 

Song → 18 by Anarbor

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Head resting in your hand and elbow resting on the counter, you huffed, still not used to the heat that accumulated in the store throughout the day and praying for just one customer to walk through the door so you could experience a refreshing blast of evening air. You supposed you could go outside yourself to cool off a little, like Keishin had previously suggested in lieu of sticking your head in one of the fridges, but being the only person at the store currently, you felt a little bad about leaving the building, even if it was just to step out front.

You were still trying your best to put on a good impression for Mrs. Sakanoshita—despite the rough first impression you had made on her son—and you knew the family store was precious, so you decided to suck it up for the remainder of your shift.

Without much to do, since you had completed your chores early, you remained seated at the front counter, bored out of your mind. That was, until your prayers were answered and you heard the front doors slide open.

“Hello!” you greeted happily, ready to welcome a customer. Your radiant excitement faded when you noticed it was just Keishin, however, and went back to slumping on the counter. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Wow, those rapid mood changes must be why we’ve been so busy lately,” Keishin shot back at you, a cigarette hanging from his mouth like usual. “Will the girl behind the counter smile or frown at you? Maybe it’ll be both. Oh, how exciting!”

“Can it, dye job,” you grumbled.

Keishin feigned hurt, his hand resting over his chest dramatically as he pretended to have been shot. “Words hurt, you know. You’ve hurt me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you told him, lazily gesturing around the empty store. “What does matter is that we’ve been dead for hours and I’m bored.”

Keishin poked his bottom lip out and faked a pout. “Awh, poor baby. Is getting paid to sit there and do nothing hard work? You must be exhausted. Poor thing.”

“I don’t get paid nearly enough to put up with you.” You reached across the counter to lightly smack his shoulder but he jumped out of the way just in time. “Seriously though, stay and entertain me for a while.”

“If you’re that bored, why don’t you dust the vents or something?”

You laid your head down on the counter and exhaled slowly for effect. “You know I aim to please but that sounds like hell. Can’t you just talk to me for like ten minutes? Tell me about your day or something.”

Keishin threw his head back and groaned loudly. “But I’m too hungry to think about anything other than food right now.”

“I’m hungry too but you don’t see me complaining about it.”

“No, you’re just complaining about everything else.” He leaned against the other side of the counter, his tongue flicking against the tip of his cigarette as he thought. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

You glanced up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “I doubt it but proceed.”

Done with your constant back talk, which was extremely common between the two of you ever since you had worked out your differences and agreed to the deal he had suggested, he took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into your face. “Just shut up and listen, will you?”

You coughed when you accidentally inhaled the second-hand smoke. “If I get cancer and die, I’m haunting you.”

“Go ahead.” He didn’t pay any attention to the words leaving your mouth as he headed into the back room and shut off the store lights. Then, with his own set of keys in hand, he headed back toward the front of the store. “Come on.” He looked back at you expectantly when you didn’t immediately follow.

Confused, you slowly stepped around from the back of the counter. “Where are we going?”

“We’re closing up early and going to get something to eat.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, half of you wondering if this was some sort of employee test to see how responsible you were. “Are we allowed to do that?”

“I am, you aren’t,” Keishin said, beckoning you over to him. “But let’s just keep this between you and I, yeah? What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, it’s slow anyway.”

Taking off your white apron and grabbing your things, you reluctantly followed the older man out of the store and watched as he locked up behind the two of you. Anxiously, you shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Are you sure I won’t get in trouble for this?”

“I promise I won’t tell on you,” Keishin assured you as he stuffed the keys back into his pocket and dropped his cigarette bud to the ground before crushing it with his foot. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

Falling into pace beside Keishin as the two of you set off down the sidewalk, you following his lead, you weren’t sure exactly sure what to say or even if you should say something. Never before had you and Keishin existed outside of the store together and it felt a little awkward. 

“So . . . is this like a date or something?” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. What you had meant to come across as a casual inquiry ended up sounding more like a desperate girl clarifying what she meant to the boy she liked. You sounded like a child.

The corners of Keishin’s mouth curled upward and he shrugged. “Call it whatever you want.” He really didn’t seem to care one way or another. “Although, I’d be a horrible boyfriend if I didn’t take you out at least once . . . fake or not.”

You nearly choked on your spit at the use of the word ‘boyfriend’. Even though you had been pretending to date him for the purposes of changing your parents’ ideals for the past few weeks, you were still caught off guard every time Keishin referred to himself as your boyfriend—even though he was usually doing it to mock you. 

“Yeah, just awful,” you agreed halfheartedly. “Where are we going anyway?”

“This little place that I like,” he said, his answer extremely vague until he continued. “Best ramen I’ve ever had.”

After a few more minutes of walking, the two of you arrived at the place Keishin was talking about and he ordered two take-out bowls and paid for them both, insisting that you should try his regular order since you had never been there before. Not wanting to disagree because he was footing the bill, you let him do what he wanted and tailed him out to a picnic table outside like an obedient puppy. 

“It’s much too hot to eat inside,” Keishin reasoned as he plopped down on the opposite side of the picnic table from you. “Plus, it’s nice outside. Might as well enjoy the weather while it lasts, right?”

“Right.” You nodded.

While Keishin dug right into his meal, you sat still, hands in your lap, and watched him. One thing you had quickly come to realize was that Keishin was the perfect specimen for people watching, and not just because he was relatively easy on the eyes. He was an interesting person; for example, how he tucked half-smoked cigarettes behind his ear to smoke later or how he always wore a headband to keep his hair out of his face but vehemently refused to just cut his damn hair. 

Even though you bugged him about cutting his hair all the time, you secretly hoped he would continue to stand his ground and refuse because you wanted to see what he looked like with his hair down. You also wanted to run your hands through his hair—it looked soft and fluffy—but that was besides the point.

“Hey, it’s gonna get cold,” Keishin snapped you out of your thoughts, his mouth half full of ramen as he jabbed his chopsticks in your direction. “Don’t tell me you don’t like ramen. You should have said something before I ordered for both of us.”

Snapping out of your daze, you picked up your chopsticks and shook your head. “No, I like ramen.” You took a bite to prove your point. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

Keishin waited for you to eat a little more before digging for your consensus. “Good, right?”

“Yeah, really good,” you agreed. “I always walk past this place but I’ve never gone inside.”

“I was the same way. It doesn’t really catch your eye, so unless you’re looking for it, it’s easy to miss,” he said. “Then one day my grandpa took me here for my birthday and I’ve been coming ever since.”

You snickered. “Popular date spot then?”

Keishin cocked a brow. “What?”

“I mean, if you come here a lot, I’m sure it’s a go-to for dates,” you continued. “It even comes with a wholesome story about how your grandpa introduced you to it. Ultimate chick magnet.”

Keishin just rolled his eyes at you. “You know, contrary to popular belief, most girls don’t like it when you take them out to eat cheap ramen on a picnic table that’s falling apart.”

You chuckled. “I wasn’t going to say anything about the table, but I’m pretty sure I have at least ten splinters in my ass by now.”

“Yeah, this thing is torture. So eat fast and then we’ll move to the park across the street or something.”

Shoveling the rest of your food into your mouth, you ate fast while Keishin stared you down, every second that passed introducing your butt to a new world of pain. As soon as you were done, Keishin took both of your take-out bowls and tossed them into a nearby trashcan.

“Well, sucks for all those other girls then, because that ramen really is amazing,” you said when Keishin returned, the two of you crossing the street and heading into the park. 

“Told you.” Keishin smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Once in the park, which was empty considering it was dark out and most kids were in bed by then, the two of you picked a nearby bench that wasn’t splintering and took a seat. 

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs and sighed. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He let his head fall back and looked up at the night sky. “Damn, I could really go for an ice cold beer right now.”

“Well, we could start heading back now if you want,” you suggested. “The beers at the store are extra chilly since I didn’t stick my head in the fridges to cool off today, despite how sweltering it was.”

Keishin laughed. “Well, thank you for that,” he drew in a deep breath and relaxed into the bench, deciding whether to get up or not. “Let’s stay here for a while longer though.”

“Okay.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you stared up at the sky and listened to the sounds of Miyagi in the evening. You tried to remember the last time you had gone out like this—just going wherever you wanted and doing whatever you wanted. You couldn’t recall the last time . . . or even if there was a last time.

Tilting your head to look at Keishin, you smiled at the sight of him sitting with his eyes closed, arms crossed behind his head and head lolled back. He looked happy, almost as peaceful as he did when he was sleeping.

“Hey,” you whispered.

Keishin cracked an eye open to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for tonight.” You breathed in the scent of the night air and a feeling of content washed over you. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I don’t really have any friends. I don’t get to go out like this very often . . . or ever, really.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”

You giggled. “Well, considering you’re not my real boyfriend, I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he caved. “Speaking of fake boyfriends, how’s it going with your parents?”

You let out a frustrated moan. “Oh, about as well as expected. When I mentioned I was seeing someone they bombarded me with a million questions, none of which were answered to their satisfaction.”

Keishin cringed. “So I’m that bad, huh?”

You scoffed. “If you think that’s bad, you should have seen their faces when I showed them a photo of you.”

Keishin let out a laugh. “Don’t tell me they weren’t fans of the piercings?”

“Oh, they weren’t fans of anything,” you said. “I think the only positive thing they could say about you was that you had a pulse . . . no offense.”

“Eh, no worries. At least they didn’t call me a burnout . . . then I would have started crying.”

“Hey!” You smacked at his shoulder again, managing to hit your target this time. “I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t pay for my therapy.”

“Yeah, well, if you need therapy I doubt I’m the biggest reason.”

“You really are so cruel to me. Do your parents know you facilitate abusive relationships?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “That insinuates I’ve had past relationships, or any real ones.”

Keishin craned his neck to look at you, eyes wide. “Wait, you’ve never been in a relationship before? Like never?”

“Nope. I don’t even have any friends, so what makes you think anyone wants to date the boring girl with the crazy parents?”

Keishin looked at you like you were some wounded animal he had just found on the side of the road. You could see in his eyes he was slowly coming to terms with just how isolating your life was. You could tell he felt bad, but the last thing you wanted was his sympathy.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” you told him. “I’m not completely pathetic, okay? I still went through my experimental phase like most teenagers do. I just had to be very sneaky about it.”

“Sneaky?”

“You know, back of a car, other people’s houses when their parents were gone. As far as my parents know, I’m untainted . . . a precious, naive virgin. I’m just not very experienced.”

“I can imagine.” Keishin was a little thrown by the direction the conversation had taken, but you were both adults and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little curious, so he just rolled with it. “High school boys aren’t exactly known for being great in bed.”

The two of you let out a shared laugh at that. “You got that right,” you agreed. 

“So, wait, no relationships but you’ve had sex? So you’ve never been with someone you have a genuine connection with?”

You eyed Keishin, perplexed by the sudden sincerity in his words. “You didn’t peg me as someone who cares about that kind of stuff.”

“I mean, I’ve had my fair share of one night stands, sure, but I’m not completely heartless,” he said, the eye contact he was using while he spoke sending a chill down your spine. “It’s completely different when it’s someone you care about. The experience is something everyone should have at least once in their lives.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a genuine connection with anyone before,” you confessed, unsure why you were spilling some of your deepest secrets in public, on a park bench, to a man you had only known for a couple of months. “It’s kind of hard when everyone is held at an arm’s length away.”

Without warning, Keishin shifted closer to you and placed his hand on your face, the pad of his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. “I . . . I don’t know what to say,” he breathed.

“It’s not sad, not for me at least. You can’t miss something you’ve never had,” you spoke softly, worried you might scare him away if your voice was too loud or if you made any sudden movements. “No best friends, no boyfriends. Just me, my parents, and everyone else.”

Keishin looked like he wanted to say something; in fact, he looked like he wanted to say a lot of things, but despite this, he remained silent. Maybe he was worried about offending you, or maybe he was finally understanding just how different you were from other people. Maybe he didn’t like different. 

“But now there’s you.” You flashed a small smile, hoping to draw him out of whatever mess was going on inside of his head. “I’ve never met someone like you before.”

“Someone like me?” he finally spoke.

You nodded as you placed your hand over the one he was resting on your cheek and held it. “I’m not your responsibility and yet you’re going out of your way to help me. Not to mention I don’t even deserve your help. You are the first truly selflessly kind person I’ve ever met. Thank you.”

“What if I’m not as kind as you think I am?” His hands found their way to your waist and he pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. “What will you do then?”

“That depends on what you’re planning on doing.”

Hands running up your sides, Keishin dug his finger tips into your skin as you lowered your head toward his, mouths inches apart. “What if I took you home, laid you down, and took care of you like a boyfriend should?” You could feel his hot breath on your face as he spoke. “What if I took advantage of your lack of experience?”

“I would say thank you,” you said, inching closer. Before your lips met, however, you stopped yourself. “But I promised not to fall in love, and I think it would be awfully hard to keep my promise if you did that.” With that, you planted your hands on his shoulders and pushed yourself away from him before he could make a decision he would later regret. 

Standing up, you collected yourself and drew in a deep breath. As soon as you had detached yourself from Keishin, you could see the fog that had been clouding his judgement dissipating as he came back to his senses. 

“I should probably head home now.” You decided, not wanting to ruin the first actual friendship you had by doing something stupid and selfish. 

“Yeah.” Keishin nodded, slowly standing up as well. It was clear he was slightly embarrassed by his actions, but you also noticed the glint in his eyes that gave away the part of him that still wanted to take you home with him. 

Trying to immediately leave what had just happened in the past, you smiled and turned to start heading home, opting to take the longer way so you wouldn’t have to take the same route as Keishin. “Good night, Keishin.”

“Good night, Y/N.” You heard him call after you, but you didn’t look back at him. Instead, you kept walking, hoping the time apart would serve as a reset on your relationship and put things back to how they had been before that night.

A few weeks ago, you would have jumped at the chance Keishin had dangled in front of your face just now. But since then, you had realized he was more important to you than someone you could just throw away with a one night stand. And since there was no way the two of you could actually be together, this was the only option if you didn’t want to lose him.

If only someone had warned you that genuine connections were this complicated. 

[archerdaryl]

Oblivious.

Daryl gets it into his head that the girl he’s infatuated with doesn’t like him one bit. What he fails to remember is that when it comes to people, she’s about as oblivious as he is. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: moody?? angsty?? idiot meets bigger idiot | @madshelily​​ Word Count: 2.7k (approximately) Notes: Request by @petrified-teeth​​ ♥ This is my first time trying something angsty since getting back into writing -- I’d love to hear what people think!

Whispers echoed through the canteen hall as Daryl lumbered through, his crossbow bloody and slung over his shoulder. There was a particularly scathing scowl painted across his grizzly features, one that unfortunately wasn’t the result of a hard day’s work outside the prison walls, and people were quick to move or look away as he grumpily made his way through the building.

To say it had been a long week was an understatement, but he was used to getting his hands dirty. He didn’t mind the aching muscles or the sweat that came with working under the scorching Georgia sun. If anything, he was happiest when he was put to work. He felt useful, like he was needed, which was something he hadn’t ever felt much of in his life.

No, that wasn’t what had been bothering him at all. Not even close.

When Daryl eventually reached his cell, he threw down his crossbow before collapsing onto his bunk. He adjusted his pillow so that he could sit up a little against the wall, eventually settling into the thin mattress with a long, heavy exhale. He was glad to finally be alone, but he still had to simmer in his thoughts which were only getting louder. 

Why hadn’t you talked to him this week? Shit, you’d barely even looked at him. 

None of it made sense. 

From the very first moment that you arrived at the prison, something about you set the archer on edge. You had been on your own, somehow surviving against the world and all its horrors for God knows how long, and yet you hadn’t turned to stone. You were everything he wasn’t in many ways. Unabashedly emotional and full of faith despite it all even though he knew you had experienced some of the worst things a person could. 

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand you, but that didn’t matter. He just wanted to make sure nothing ever smacked that smile off your face again. 

Daryl’s stomach stirred. His own features softened at the mere thought of your smile, which only made him forcibly frown again. What the fuck was his problem? He had to be overthinking this. Maybe he was just tired, but that couldn’t be it. 

You hadn’t spoken to him all week.

It was driving him insane. 

Looking back, he really wasn’t sure when his feelings for you snuck up on him. He could only pinpoint the moment he realised it for himself that he liked you at all. You had gotten separated from the group on a run, took it upon yourself to divert a small herd away from everyone. You ended up bloody and bruised. Damn well nearly got yourself bit, but you still giggled and told him he worried too much.

It took almost losing you to realise you had chiselled away at the walls he built around himself. You’d made a little home for yourself in his heart and the idea of you turning on him now was making him spiral.

Daryl shifted in his bunk and began to absentmindedly pick at the skin around his fingernails. One soon started to bleed, but he was too lost in thought to notice. 

There was no fucking way you felt the same as he did. How could a girl like you possibly want a guy like him? You personified sunshine and he was a weed that had absolutely no business taking up your time and energy. 

God, if his brother could see him now.  He was pathetic. Merle would tell him just that, laughing in his face and reminding him that he told him so, that no one would ever care about his baby brother Daryl but him. 

And the worst thing was that he could live with that. He could live with you not wanting to be with him. It kept him awake at night and gnawed away at whatever little sense of self he had left but as long as you liked him just a little bit and wanted him around he could live with it. 

So why the fuck weren’t you talking to him?

Daryl started to retrace his steps, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong. He knew he could be blunt, often rude at times, but he meant well. Maybe meaning well wasn’t enough. Maybe he just had to suck it up and apologise and hope it was enough despite not having a damn clue what he had done wrong. 

But maybe that was just it. Maybe he hadn’t done anything at all. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

He was breathing heavily now, eyes squeezed shut and anger building further in his chest. He couldn’t fix this. He wanted to but he couldn’t. The echoes of Merle’s laughter haunted him. He’d been thrown away like he’d been countless times before and he only had himself to blame.

“Hey Da-” A familiar voice interrupted him, quickly sounding concerned, “What’s going on?”

Daryl’s eyes shot open, scowling at the figure who had approached his cell. It was just Rick, but he didn’t want to talk to Rick right now. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“Nothin’.” He spat angrily, “Get lost.”

Rick sighed and stepped into Daryl’s cell, drawing the thin curtain behind him to try and give Daryl the illusion of privacy. 

“Daryl you can’t keep storming around the prison like this. People are uncomfortable.” He paused, lowering his gaze to shake his head before looking at his friend with sympathetic eyes, “Now what is it? Is it her?”

The archer blinked up at him, unable to respond.

“You think I ain’t noticed?” Rick chuckled, “Like a dog to a bone whenever she’s around.”

“Well she ain’t around. She ain’t fuckin’ talkin’ to me.”

Daryl sat up from his bunk and threw his legs over the side, leaning onto them with his elbows. He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. He may not have said anything, but Daryl had a language of his own only those closest to him could understand. Rick was one of those people. 

“She’s been bouncin’ around all week helpin’ out with the library. Have you talked to her?”

Again, Daryl was stuck for words. He was starting to feel stupid. 

“Why don’t you just tell her man?”

“Tell her what?” He snarled back, now massaging his fists as if he were in pain. 

He couldn’t fathom trying to tell you how he really felt. How could he? He was no good. He never understood why you insisted on talking to him in the first place, he was just glad you did. Every moment he got to spend with you made him want to make the world a better place for you to be in so that faith of yours never betrayed you again.

“C’mon now. You can lie to everyone else but I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Daryl shot Rick another scowl but didn’t bother trying to tell him otherwise. 

“You talk too damn much.”

“She won’t figure it out for herself, man. D’ya think if she could take a hint you’d be sulkin’ like this right now?”

Dary’s brows knitted together and a sigh of defeat drew slowly from his lips. Rick had a point whether he liked it or not. You weren’t exactly… the most cognizant person when it came to others. You did good and hoped people were good to you in return, but unless someone spelled out their intentions or desires for you, you were left with simply navigating the waters the best you could. 

That was why you got on so well with Michonne. There was no bullshit with her. She told you what she thought, what she wanted, or where to go if you were pissing her off. You were better off for it, never having to second guess yourself, but not everyone was like that. 

Daryl certainly wasn’t. Did you have any idea where you stood with him at all? Did you see him like you saw everyone else? He swallowed hard. 

“Rick?” A voice then called out, “Are you down here?”

“In here!”

Footsteps approached Daryl’s cell and the curtain was pulled open, “Maggie wants you. Something about the library? She should be still in there.”

Daryl glanced up at the new arrival who met his crystalline gaze with a sweet smile. 

It was you. 

His mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry. 

Rick turned to Daryl and cocked a brow suggestively before making his departure. Daryl wanted to shove the smug bastard against a wall, but he stayed silent, clearing his throat and waiting for you to follow Rick without bothering to say another word.

Instead, you stayed and perched yourself on the edge of his squeaky metal desk which was covered in borrowed books and makeshift arrows. He silently cursed himself for not thinking to tidy up a little, especially with the pile of dirty clothes he kept forgetting about building up in the corner of his cell. 

“You charged right past me in the canteen earlier.” You finally said, voice gentle but steady, “Did something happen out there?”

“Naw.” He responded bluntly, “Just been a long week.”

“Oh.” You paused, unsure of how to proceed, “Do you want me to go?”

He was a difficult man to read, but you felt you knew him well enough by now to know that he often just wanted to be on his own. He wasn’t a talker. He was introspective and quiet, never wanted to bother anyone with anything if he didn’t have to, but over the last few months he seemed to have grown to like having you around. He tolerated you at the very least you thought, because he stopped ignoring you and started to speak in (almost) complete sentences. 

Still, something was nagging at you. You weren’t sure what, but in your experience it was best to come right out with it otherwise you’d be stuck in limbo forever. 

“Have I done -”

Daryl looked down at his hands, “Ain’t seen you all week.”

A frown pulled at your features. Had it really been that long? You weren’t even sure what day it was. Maggie had you running around all week trying to get this library in order for the kids and you had never been particularly good at juggling a million things at once. 

Pushing yourself up off the desk, you approached the bunk and nudged his feet with your shoe in a silent request for him to shuffle over. He obliged and you took a seat next to him. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, “I’ve been so caught up in the library I didn’t even realise I hadn’t spoken much to anyone.”

Silence followed. Daryl was chewing the inside of his lip to keep himself from running, unable to meet your eyes that were fixated on him with such care and curiosity. He’d never felt so fuckin’ stupid. 

“Funny.” You continued, “I wouldn’t have thought you cared.”

“What?”

“I don’t know where I stand with you at all, truthfully.”

This girl had to be joking. From an outside perspective, it likely made perfect sense, but he thought about you all the damn time. He wanted to know if you slept well, how your day went, wanted to know the little stories behind the things you did and why you never seemed to give up on anybody or anything. 

He felt like a damn school girl. He liked you so much that he could have laughed at the idea of you not thinking he liked you at all. 

“I mean, I hope you like me. I pretend you do and keep buggin’ you anyways, but I don’t know that you do.”

“Of course I like ya.” He finally met your gaze, “Never gave me a choice.”

You studied his face. Sure, he was rough around the edges, but there was also a tenderness to him that made you feel safe. An appreciative grin tugged at your lips, relieved that you hadn’t been making a fool of yourself this entire time. 

“Don’ think I could hate ya’ if I tried.”

“That’s high praise coming from you. Might start getting the wrong idea.”

Daryl forced himself to snort in response as if he found the notion of being interested in you like that funny, though it came out half-heartedly. He didn’t really think it was funny at all.

“Though,” You teased him further, “Worse things have happened.”

Weaving an arm through his, you took it upon yourself to rest your head against his shoulder. You didn’t care that he was grubby. You had nothing to lose anymore. He just said he couldn’t hate you, which honestly made you feel a little giddy inside. You’d have to bug him more often.

Daryl, on the other hand, thought he had lost the ability to breathe. He turned his head slightly, taking in the unmistakable scent of peaches and vanilla. How was it you could smell that good during the Goddamn apocalypse? Not to mention your hands, almost disgustingly soft compared to his. Except, it wasn’t disgusting at all. You were a fleece blanket and he wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by you. 

“Sorry about lunch.” He mumbled quietly into your hair. You hummed happily, not at all bothered by his previous outburst in the canteen before he continued, “Could get dinner?”

“Sure. I gotta talk to Rick about the run tomorrow anyways.”

Daryl frowned. He was going to have to try and spell it out for her. Fuckin’ Rick and his meddling. 

“Naw I meant,” He hesitated for a moment and swallowed hard, “I meant just the two of us. If ya’ want.”

You glanced up from his shoulder, eyes beautiful and wide. This was one of those times you didn’t know what to think -- especially in regards to him --  but your first instinct was to nod, so you did. You nodded and searched his gentle gaze for some sort of sign, something that told you what he was thinking, whether he just wanted to make up for lost time or whether he was actually… nah. 

He couldn’t be.

And he could see that confusion painted across your face. Goddamn it. Just getting his words out at all was like trying to get blood out of a stone. It’s a date. That’s all he had to say, but it sounded so childish. The fuck did he look like asking out a girl on a date with the world gone to shit? He could hear his heart beating in his ears 

“Damn it,” He grunted, that Southern drawl of his getting thicker the more impatient he got. He exhaled heavily through his nose and tried not to roll his eyes, “I’m asking you out.”

“Oh.” Was all you could respond, soft and surprised. 

Ten minutes ago you weren’t even sure he liked you at all. That giddy feeling in your stomach grew stronger and you tried to stop yourself from beaming. 

“I can still say yes, right?”

Daryl shrugged you off of him, “You drive me nuts, you know tha’?”

“Alright, shit, I won’t come.”

“You’re coming, alrigh’? Now get outa here before Maggie bites my head off.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and stepped towards the gateway. Daryl watched you, his own gaze drifting from your hair to your waist and up again. That agonising ache in the pit of his stomach was finally starting to subside, though it was being replaced by something entirely different. He sucked in his bottom lip nervously as your hips swayed away from him. 

You only took a couple of steps out of his cell when you stopped in your tracks, turning half-way to glance at him with that sunshine smile spreading across your face. 

Daryl finally smiled back, shy and sweet and more than ready to smack Rick upside the head. 

[douxspider]

— 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. (3)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) — Waking up at Reader's place, we finally get a glimpse at Arvin's POV. Though, while their relationship seems to be moving forward, it seems like the whole 'running away into the sunset' deal only happens in fiction.

+ this is the third part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: angst, almost smutty but nothing explicit is written, mentions of murder, preston teagardin lmao, rated mature word count: 4,244 published: 9/24/20 ao3 link — part 1, 2

— — • — — 

When Arvin woke up leaned against you, he felt his face turn into a beet shade of red. Slowly parting from your leaning form on the couch, he rubbed his eye, unaware that he had an actual decent rest in such a cramped position. He hardly ever felt comfortable enough to sleep in his own bed. Usually, attempts at sleep were mostly met with staring at the ceiling blankly, recalling haunting memories on repeat in his head.

His thoughts were blank when he fell asleep. Arvin was met with nothing but the television’s staticy audio and the sound of your quiet breathing.

He looked over to take in your features— what amazing features, he thought— and found his hand carefully creeping to the side of your face to brush the knuckle of a finger near your ear, tucking a strand of hair behind it lovingly.

Arvin loved you.

He knew he shouldn’t— he knew he had no idea what love was— but within the few months spent together, Arvin knew he liked you too much to be calling it ‘liking’ and ‘platonic’.

That one stormy evening alongside memories of beating the hell out of Lenora’s bullies, blood and bruising splattering his knuckles like paint, he needed a place to clear his head. He needed a place that was quiet in every way shape and form. Arvin had been driving with a foggy haze before his eyes had locked onto McCann Boys. Arvin wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t anything, he just needed to sit somewhere other than a damn car where he could swerve into a building and die.

When he stepped in, the immediate smell of sweetness overloaded his senses, and he found himself hesitantly sitting down in a booth, wringing the cloth against his knuckles in a patterned fashion.

Then you approached.

And by God, had you been the prettiest sight to see. If it were on any other day, Arvin would’ve been sure to come up with better words than asking if he had to buy anything.

That’s not how you talk to a pretty face, his father would scold in his head, y’wanna smile at ‘er, and make her feel all sorts of butterflies. Y’gotta make her feel like the only girl in the world, son.

Arvin often had his father’s coaching in his head when it came to things like this. Though, it didn’t really make sense most of the time. His father didn’t live long enough to meet Arvin in his ‘girl phase’. This was more than a phase, he promised himself, looking at your resting form. And my, had the universe been so forgiving of him, making sunlight drawing from blinds rest on your features, highlighting your skin and making you look like a pure, unadulterated angel.

He wanted you.

Arvin bit his bottom lip. He wanted you so bad. He wanted to keep you forever. He wanted to take you away from this lowly place in Ohio and bring you somewhere nice, somewhere with beaches and sunshine, away from disgusting preachers, dried blood and judgmental eyes.

Realizing the first time you went to that church, Arvin could see the way that no-good priest looked at you. He knew what that man did to Lenora. He knew everything. Arvin got up from the couch, his fists turning stark white as he paced towards the apartment door, red building at the sides of his eyes. Arvin had to protect all the girls in town. He had to. For Lenora, for Y/N. He had to go and—

“Arvin?”

Hearing a voice that reminded him of bells, Arvin turned around, seeing you slowly rise up from the couch and looking over to make contact with him. “Where are you going?”

Your sleepy tone was so amiable. Your eyes were so dazed, blinking as you gave a small sniffle, scratching at your shoulder.

“I was…” Arvin trailed off before coming back towards you, kneeling in front of the couch and giving a smile as he took your hand. “I was gonna get you breakfast. As a thank you.” A lie, but it was fine. He was planning on watching the priest. Though, breakfast didn’t sound too bad. Time with you was worth more than anything else. You were all he had, next to his grandmother and uncle.

You smiled. He melted a little inside.

“You don’t need to get me anything,” you murmured as you clutched onto his hand. Your eyes were studious, flitting around his body, and he suddenly felt small. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about the sleeping stuff… if your neck was stiff, I mean, I’d feel bad—”

“Y/N,” Arvin spoke sternly, “that was the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your eyes turned round, diluting slightly once they met the sunlight.

Arvin could hear his father’s berating tone in the back of his head. Say it. Be a man. He looked at the ground, holding onto your hand for dear life, uneasily balancing his weight on his knee. Though, Arvin couldn’t say anything. Nothing was coming out. There you were, waiting so patiently, being so patient with him, and he was at a lack for words.

Words wouldn’t fix this. Only action. Action would fix everything, Arvin knew this. He was taught this. He was always better physically expressing his thoughts and feelings than vocally or emotionally.

Releasing one of his hands from yours, he curved one underneath your palm and pulled your soft, untouched knuckles against his lips, giving a kiss. These knuckles have never hurt a soul. This being had never hurt anyone. Arvin would make sure it would stay that way.

He glanced upwards, his cap altering his view slightly, and he could make out the way your cheeks turned a different shade, inviting lips gaping slightly.

Smiling against your skin, Arvin moved his free hand to the top of yours and gazed at you. To his surprise, he watched as your thumb rolled circles against his own. You were smiling, and it was a smile to take in. Oh, it was.

“You’re sweet, Arvin,” you giggled so beautifully and he wanted to listen to his name coming out of your mouth on repeat, “...I kinda want donuts.”

Arvin couldn’t help but give a laugh under his breath at the change of moods. He stood up, continuously holding your hand as he refused to let it go, and said, “Let’s get donuts, then.”

—

He was angry. He was a pot boiling. Staring at Preston from afar, he watched from his car as the man interacted with a female shopowner who was fresh out of highschool. Arvin’s leg bounced within his vehicle, the sun setting, and he continued to survey.

Preston would interact with girls other than his wife. He would bring girls into his car and do unspeakable, unlawful things with them, then proceed to go back to the place he calls home and force himself onto his wife.

Arvin clutched onto the wheel.

While Preston was a horrible man who deserved the worst punishment from all graces of any lord, he found himself growing frustrated. Not even just about Lenora or all the sweet innocence the man took, Arvin found himself growing frustrated at his own damn self.

He would think about Y/N.

No, not doing such acts as those forcefully, imagining the same power dynamic, he would never. He meant it when he said he didn’t hurt girls. Arvin despised the man. He despised him and he wanted him gone. He wanted that man to suffer for what he did to his sister. Though, at points, he would drive up to your apartment and stare at the window that belonged to you. He would lick his chapped lips and his hand would shake as it reached the door handle. Then, Arvin would grow a clear sense of mind, he would receive clarity, and he would drive to the opposite side of town just to avoid even thinking about touching you in such a passionate way.

After a few days, Arvin decided.

He’d have to leave you behind.

He loved you, but he also loved Lenora, and Lenora deserved justice. Arvin could hear her voice already, pleading for him to let it go. To just let the man be. To leave. Do anything else. Settle down with you somewhere far, far away, start a life, start a family. Be free.

“I ain’t ever let anything go, ‘Nora.”

The priest was dead.

Arvin’s blood rushed through his veins as the sun set on the horizon, him zooming through the city streets, eagerly approaching your apartment.

God, it was a thrill. The adrenaline coursing through his veins after watching the damned predator fall onto the church floor bleeding from his wounds was cathartic. It made Arvin’s head whirl and turn dizzy. He had no moral thoughts, he was no longer moral, no longer a man that could be forgiven. Arvin felt the rage that built up within him for years be released with three gunshots, the guilt and agony of being alone and misjudged by any person left behind within the church.

Sitting in the car and hearing the blinker click at him, he turned it off once pulling into the lot. He took off his cap, carding his fingers through his hair, debating if he was really going to let you go.

Y/N offered a future he couldn’t take. It hurt more than anything.

Arvin glanced up at your patio, seeing you move from behind the window. You were only a silhouette. You were yet to be discovered by him in this manner, this new Arvin Russell. You wouldn’t recognize him, he thought, he wouldn’t recognize you.

It would be a completely different take on his life. He was no longer himself. Was he better, or worse? Was he a criminal, or a vigilante? Arvin didn’t know what to do. It hadn’t set in yet that he was no longer only capable of beating bullies shitless. He was so much more than that. He was more.

Arvin could do anything.

It was dark out. He finally found the courage to yank open the door handle and step out of his car. He didn’t bother to lock it, he had nothing to lose.

Entering the apartment’s doors, smelling various spices of cooking or hearing children laughing from very muffled walls, Arvin found himself stomping up the steps, his heart beating against his ribs uneasily.

Staring at the room, noticing that the others around were vacant, Arvin could just about do anything. No one would know.

He clenched his fists a few times before finally knocking on the door with his knuckles. It was like the first time you two had met, his very knuckles expressing his pain and anguish, and you read onto the signs of a lonely man seeking solace. Arvin was still bruised and broken; just not in any place where you could see it.

You opened the door, and your mouth opened before closing abruptly. Arvin knew he must’ve looked like he just killed someone. Well, he did, but you didn’t know about that.

Arvin wanted you. Though, he’d be careful, you were the one delicate thing in his life. He had to treat you with care. He had to treat you so gently this night, for it would be your last with him.

Taking a step inside, he moved his hand up and cupped your cheek, moving his thumb— once holding a gun used to kill— so that it wiped gingerly beneath your bottom lip. Your jaw fidgeted slightly as you were attempting to find words. Though, your hand didn’t disagree with his actions. Instead, it met the back of his palm, planted gently on top of his own hand that held your cheek.

Confident, Arvin moved in closer and pulled you towards him, meeting your lips with his. You made a soft noise in your throat and it set Arvin’s mind on fire. Flames danced between your faces, and he felt you eagerly kiss back, your arms snaking across his shoulders as he found himself kicking the door with the back of his heel to close it shut.

Your hands found themselves on the surface of his head and pushing off his cap to knot fingers in his hair. Arvin didn’t even care. His body was burning underneath your touch as he found himself pressing you against the nearest flat surface, which was your dining room table that held a vase with hand picked flowers resting inside and a sweet floral mat keeping it level. You were so adorable, he swooned in his head, you were so precious to him and oh so good. You’re so good.

Wife material, Arvin’s head was screaming, he wanted to steal you away and marry you. You were lifted onto the mahogany table, Arvin’s tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You were so good, submitting your mouth to him, letting him roam the inside and clutch onto your hips so tightly it could bruise. Feeling your soft, untouched, blessed hands clutch onto his belt line had him push his pelvis closer to yours.

“Arvin—” you attempted, but he wouldn’t let you. No, he wouldn’t let you worry. You didn’t need to worry about anything, not with him around. He was your protector, he would keep you safe, he wouldn’t let you die or leave. He wouldn’t let you be hurt by anyone. Thinking about keeping you close to him in his arms, just this close, making you sigh from pleasure as Arvin plastered kisses down your jaw and to your neck to test the waters of what made you quiver; it was enough to drive him insane.

He found his teeth scraping at your flesh and you gasped, arching your body upwards and he felt your hips grind against his middle. It made him give out a guttural growl of need.

“Arvin, wait— wait, honey, stop—”

Arvin didn’t want to. Though, he would, just for your sake. He lifted his head up to meet yours, and once you made eye contact with him, your expression changed from flustered to concerned. Nurturing. Your hand met his cheek, your thumb gently rubbing itself underneath his eye, and he moved a hand to hold your wrist and gently kiss your palm.

Your voice was so soft, so sweet, as if you raised it any further it would blow Arvin away. “What’s going on?”

He wanted to tell you everything. You were so kind, you were everything, you were the sun and stars and sky. Nuzzling into your hand, he murmured, “Nothin’...”

“It’s clearly something if you come into my apartment and start kissing me like this, Russell,” you spoke, his last name strong in your city accent. Your voice was so stern, so dead set on uncovering him, and Arvin gazed at you, still high from revenge and loving you.

He hesitated. Arvin pinched his lips together, licking them faintly, still tasting your lip scrub on them.

Your warm hands met his burning face, handling them so sweetly. “You don’t need to give me specifics,” you started, “...just give me something, Arvin, so I know you’re in your right mind.”

Your name made his eyes flutter shut, nudging his nose against yours. “Say m’name like that again, sweet girl…”

“Arvin.” Your tone was more of a warning. It pulled him back from the sea of desire.

Arvin sighed, mumbling, “I had a revelation, darlin’…” his thumb rolled circles into your wrist, “I had a good day… ‘m a free man, Y/N. I wanna share this with you.” He opened his eyes to see you gazing at him so sweetly. “Let me have this night with you, pretty girl. I wanna make you feel as good as me. I’m sober, I promise, ‘m just intoxicated by the thought of you.”

“Such a flirt,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt himself smirking.

“Only for you.”

Your beautiful, reflective eyes stared into his. Then, they shut, and you moved your head forward to slowly encapture his lips. Arvin was more than eager to requite this. Fervor filled his loins as he clutched your thigh once it was squeezing against his side.

“Sweet baby girl,” he whispered into your ear, “Can we move this to your bed?”

—

When Arvin woke up, he had never felt more exhausted. He was hit with a newfound clarity. There was a soft gray shade leaking from the windows, and he squinted at the clock from across the room— wiping the fogginess from his eyes— and took notice that it was in the early hours of five a.m. Arvin went to move, but was barricaded by something clinging to his side.

His eyes were round as saucers as he took a hold of your nude bodies entangled.

Flushed, he quickly whipped his head back ahead, staring at the ceiling.

The confidence he had last night was almost embarrassing. Though, he licked his teeth and looked back to you, his fingers carding through your hair. Your hair was so soft to the touch, so perfect for someone like you, never missing the latest trends.

Arvin gave a hum of contentment, taking in your features in the early morning. Last night was full of unbridled desire, a fervor that the both of you had been bottling up for who knows how long. Perhaps, since that rainy day in the bakery, there had been that weird spark that compelled you both to do this.

He buried his nose in your sweet scented hair, pressing his lips against your warm forehead, hearing you shuffle and murmur under your breath. You were still very much asleep.

Taking in your sleeping face for the last time, Arvin gave a pained smile. He didn’t want to leave you at all. He wanted to keep you forever— he wanted to wake up to this every day— but he couldn’t let you become an accomplice. Arvin had to protect you.

With that, he managed to sneak his way out of your koala arms and legs and get dressed in his old clothing. Reading over the letter he wrote yesterday, Arvin felt his heart break with each word. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved better than him— someone who could keep themselves together, who wasn’t so haunted by the past. You came to this city to escape yours, and he couldn’t drag you into his. He had to escape too. Some part of him knew you would understand that with time.

Arvin had stopped by a bakery quickly, ordering a lemon and poppyseed muffin with the most bittersweet feeling, coming back to your room to see you were still dead asleep.

He placed the muffin box down on the nightstand and folded the letter so that it stood up with your name on a proud display. Arvin’s hand wringed its way through his hair before he stared at his ragged blue cap for a moment, placing it alongside the muffin and letter.

Arvin leaned down to kiss you on the lips briefly, you giving a sleepy hum, pursuing your lips lazily before drifting unconscious again. He noticed that the sun was just rising.

The sunset brought a bit of hope. He watched you sleep for a bit, the purple turning into a golden on your features, before he made his exit.

—

Your body felt like jello. Giving a groan, your hands scavenged the sheets for the warm body that accompanied you that night, but you were left with a cold absence. Cracking your eyes open and grunting at the shine of the sun, the clock spoke nine a.m, and you were surprised Arvin was not with you.

You licked your lips and sat up. Stretching your spine, you noticed you were nude and blushed, pulling the sheets up your chest. “Arvin?” You called, noticing the lack of your friend— lover? Boyfriend? Friend with benefits?— and gave a long exhale. Luckily you had the day off, as convenient as that was.

Looking over, you noticed the hat, muffin box, and letter. Your name was in bold pencil, and you tilted your head curiously before leaning over and peering through the plastic cover. You smiled and saw the dark spots of poppyseeds on the treat. It was sentimental, and your heart nearly burst.

Gazing at the hat, you were inquiring if he just managed to leave it behind.

You decided to take the letter, opening it up and not preparing for what you’d read.

Y/N,

You’re probably wondering where I am right now. I am too. If you asked me right now, I wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

I did something that can’t be forgiven. Maybe not by the Lord, definitely not by law, uncertain by you. I don’t want you to worry. I’m safe. I can’t come back. I can’t give you a number or address. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know who I will be.

The world ain’t been kind. I know it ain’t been kind to you either. I don’t want to make things even worse for you, sweet girl. You’re everything I didn’t deserve. You said to me a long time ago that I deserve good, but I don’t. You are such a good girl, so much so I can’t have you. A part of me wants to be selfish and keep you. I know I can’t. I can’t do that to you.

You’re gonna hear about that preacher man. You’re gonna hear things about me, probably. I just want you to know I did it because I had to. You need to know that. I couldn’t be alive knowing Lenora wasn’t and he was. I’m sorry, baby.

I’m sorry for leaving you. I don’t want to. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be with me right now, pretty girl. I’d give everything just to see you every morning, every afternoon, every night. Ever since that day where you forgave me for the first time for my sins, smoking and drinking black coffee, I know what else I could fight for. I know what I could have just for myself. The sad part is, God is a sadist, and he won’t let me have you.

You asked me if I like Puppy Love, and I do. I’m listening to music for once as I write this, and I understand all the stuff they cry about on the radio. I know what it means to love. My heart ain’t ever been this broke before, sweetheart. 

I love you, Y/N.

As I said, we’ll be seeing each other again. Look out for postcards from my initials.

A.R.

When you finished, wet spots had been dotting the paper, and the last two initials were the final nail in the coffin. You let out a choked sob, leaning over to clutch onto the paper close to your chest. You collapsed onto the sheets, weeping, unable to comprehend. You kept asking why, why, why, even though it was right in front of you.

You flipped the page, noting the sweet lyrics on the back.

I cry each night, my tears are for you, my tears are all in vain, I hope, I hope and I pray, that maybe someday, you’ll be back in my arms once again.

Sniffling and wiping at your nose, you gave a few sobs, pressing your palm against your damp cheeks until they turned red.

You folded the paper and placed it back on your nightstand, curling in on yourself, clutching your sheets that still had Arvin’s presence lingering on them. Pressing them against your wet, hot face, you gave a few soft wheezes.

How could you tell Arvin you loved him, too? How could you write back to him? How could you sleep at night, not knowing he was okay? That there was no way you could tell him you’d wait forever for him?

You must’ve managed to doze off, as the sun was no longer as golden as before. The skies were a clear blue, and you managed to tug on tolerable clothes. Standing on your patio, you clutched the metal railings, staring down at the town with dismay. He was no longer here. This town no longer held that charming spark that you’d learn to love.

Walking back inside, you gazed at the letter, muffin, and hat. Leaning over, you grabbed the blue cap and rubbed your thumbs against the torn fabric, pressing the lid against your lips and kissing it. At least you had this— something you rarely saw him without. He gave you this, and your heart soared at the thought. Placing it on the top of your head, you took the lemon and poppyseed muffin and headed towards McCann Boys.

Marilyn perked at your presence, speaking, “Sweetpea, it’s not your workday.”

“I’m here as a guest,” you murmured, gazing at her, and Marilyn’s eyebrows rose at your expression. She gave a sorry nod at you, continuing to swipe down the counters.

You sat in the booth you and Arvin met at, and you took your seat, gazing at the ashtray emptily. Picking at the muffin, you fixed your cap to hide your face.

The radio near the coffee player began to sing. Your heart dropped, and you recalled the oh-so familiar lyrics.

...This is not a puppy love.

[im-the-punk-who]

----

@rnmmarchformeta​ Day 1: Tonight’s theme is: Themes

Malex and Music: Tracing a relationship through music used in the show - Part 1

----

Given that both Michael and Alex have a personal connection to music, I wanted to go over some of the intricacies of what the music choices and lyrics/stories behind the songs used might tell us about Malex. The music choices in Roswell New Mexico are deliberate and often incredibly pointed. Particularly in the case of Michael and Alex there are elements of their relationship that are not so much underlined as written about only in the lyrical choices that play under their scenes. This choice for me made rewatching the series a lot of fun because as I discovered the lyrics to some of the more obscure song choices I kept discovering new intricacies and motivations for each of their decisions. Below the cut for length.

(Author’s note circa 2007:  (rawr xD) I’m focusing specifically on the parts of these songs that play over or in direct correlation to scenes where Michael and Alex are both present. I would love to explore this theme in the wider context of the whole show and how their interactions with other characters might change some of these but...this is already like 6k and that’s just how the peas and carrots cooked. That said I will be referencing other characters and relationships as relevant, particularly, I will be talking at some length about Milexa and the airstream scenes in 2x06. I personally have a favorable reading of the scenes and what they mean for Michael and Alex. I also talk briefly about Milexa in a few other spots - they’ve been marked as ‘Milexa’ or ‘Miluca’ if you wish to skip them, although I don’t know if this will make sense as a whole without them. But, should you wish. Proceed accordingly. <3)

----

Posted on AO3 here.

Sedona - Houndstooth (1x01)

The first song we hear in relation to Malex is ‘Sedona’ by Houndstooth. The song plays during the reunion as we see Alex confront Michael about the chemicals found around his airstream. The verse that plays underneath the scene references how, due to its scenic beauty, the town of Sedona was once a highly sought after filming location but had fallen into obscurity when cowboy movies went out of style in the late 70′s.

Similarly, Alex tells Michael that he is ‘wasting his life.’

“Does the macho cowboy swagger thing ever get old for you?”

“Did it get old for you?”

For me, this scene is as much an introduction to the past between these two as their present. Gone but not forgotten, their interactions are a ‘script’ that the two of them play off of. In other words, Michael and Alex don’t so much interact as play off of what the other expects from the other. This becomes especially clear when in 2x05 we learn that Alex has at least once before warned Michael about ‘wasting his life.’

When The Truth Hunts You Down - Sam Tinnesz (1x01)

The next scene is this one, in which we see Alex contemplating an old picture of himself. We then see Michael watching him.

Later, the last line is overlaid with Jesse telling Kyle about the existence of aliens.

The truth about Michael’s alienness is quiet literally hunting them, but so is something about Alex’s past. As we get to know him, we learn just how much his father is interconnected with all of the worst moments in his life and everrything he has buried and tried to run from in order to avoid it. Michael, Roswell itself - Alex ran halfway across the world to try to run away from the trauma of his youth, and yet here he is.

“Nostalgia’s a bitch, huh?”

“You know I thought when I got back from Iraq you would be long gone.”

“Is that what you want?”

“We’re not kids anymore. What I want doesn't matter.” 

We also find out something of the nature of his and Michael’s relationship and that there are clearly still feelings between them - no matter how much Alex is trying to deny it.

Give Me The Night - Des Rocs (1x02)

This is one of my personal faves from the Malex soundtracks. It just *slaps* okay?

Aside from the obvious nod to Michael’s alienness, this song underscores the divide still between Michael and Alex despite the passionate kiss they shared at the reunion. Michael is initially flirtatious and full of swagger - until Alex shuts him down.

The fallacy of Alex’s rebuke and his dismissal of the feelings behind the kiss are underscored by his refusal to even look Michael in the eye as they talk. Even if he tries to deny them, the truth of his feelings hunts and haunts him because he feels he can never act on his own desires. And in turn when presented with the about face, Michael turns bitter as the push-pull is reinitiated. Michael falls back to the script they’ve been rehashing to save his feelings - ‘puts on a show’ as it were, and Alex falls for it hook, line, and sinker. He is still unwilling or unable to see the truth that lies beneath the surface.

“Isn’t there some law about building on a historical site?”

“A historical - oh you mean because the UFO crashed here? Yeah, we’re not supposed to build on Santa’s workshop either.”

For Michael, who at least to me was obviously hoping things would change this time around, this must feel like a bucket of cold water, especially in the face of Liz Ortecho’s knowledge and seeming easy acceptance of the aliens’ existence. While Max might get his happy ending, Michael is left to keep hiding from the person he loves, never being seen and wondering if Alex’s feelings are even real. 

Two Princes - Spin Doctors (1x02) (Miluca)

In rapid fire we have the next three songs as Michael and Alex spend some time at the Wild Pony. This verse plays under the interaction when Alex comes in the bar and spots Michael.

“Though he got kinda hot. In a ‘sex in a truck, smells like a river, never introduce him to your mama’ kind of way.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

My boy. My child. My bluntest instrument in the tool kit. Has no one ever told Alex Manes that saying you hadn’t noticed an objectively hot guy is hot is basically code for ‘I haven’t stopped staring at him since I walked in and my brain is not functioning at a high enough level to mask that fact’? Son, please, this is a drunk Wendy’s.

(Also this is huge foreshadowing for Miluca - Michael and Maria don’t have sex *in* a truck but it’s pretty close, we find out later that Michael/the aliens smell like rain, and she tells him he’s not meeting her mother at one point. The angle of this shot is also, for me at least, a hint that Michael is going to become the object of these two ‘princes’ affections, at some point.)

Anyway this is basically poking fun at Alex Manes, repressed disaster, for having no clue what love is and trying to express his affection through like, everything except anything anyone would understand as romantic love. (And we will see this in the flashbacks as well as present day - that Alex mostly uses his station or advantages as a way to show the people he loves he loves them, rather than using words. When he offers Michael the shed, brings him the guitar, uses his military connections to find out about Michel’s mom, hacks into Maria’s computer...listen I got more.) But that isn’t enough, as we’re learning. If only there were some way Alex could also learn that lesson.

And seriously, “This one said he wants to buy you rockets?”

How’s It Going To Be? - Stephen Edwards (1x02)

“Is there really nobody in this world that you wouldn’t risk everything to save? Sad.”

Oh Isobel, if only you knew.

So, aside from returning the kiss Michael initiated at the reunion, Alex has soundly rejected every advance Michael has made for a relationship. Despite that Michael seems to have been harboring some hope that things might be different not that Alex is back more permanently. But now with Isobel bringing into question what he’s willing to sacrifice, I think he might be realizing that toll has been extremely steep already.

(Also truly obsessed with how both Alex and Michael have positioned themselves so that they can casually glance over at each other without arousing suspicion. *Boys*. It’s not that complicated what is this middle school?)

We know that Michael doesn’t like having to keep secrets, and again I have to wonder if he’s regretting not telling Alex he’s an alien, or wondering how that conversation would have gone.

From the previous scenes we can tell something in their relationship is coming to a head - maybe Michael is hoping it’s that he can finally stop keeping secrets from Alex and show Alex who he really is - that Alex will stop misreading him. That Alex will change.

But there is also the expectation that if that happens, Alex will likely leave again. Not just because that’s what Alex’s trauma makes him do, but also because that is how Michael frames all of his relationships. As ‘until you leaves’. He is shown to have a habit of catastrophizing because he doesn’t believe himself to ‘belong’ anywhere(HA) and this is one of those times we’re shown that.

Come With Me - Gold Star (1x02)

“Home can be a person.”

And here we have Alex “thinking about who he was” as Maria closes up the bar. Given where this scene leads with him and Michael, I think the rest of the lyrics to the song are incredibly poignant.

Tell me what were you dreaming? Tell me who were you trying to reach? Gimme something real to believe in Or gimme a reason to leave So i left her standing under shining stars in the Silver moonlight by old Borough Hall - whoever you are

We know that after this evening Alex attempts to rekindle his relationship with Michael, still thinking about who he was, and maybe for the first time trying not to run from what he wants. He’ll be unsuccessful this time, but it’s the first clue that Alex is attempting to break a pattern that has held him in place for ten years.

While he may have been misreading Michael’s stunted growth, we’re starting to see Alex contemplate change in himself. This is the start of Alex’s two season long journey to break out of the fortress he’s built around himself. To ‘put his weapons down’ in an effort to be with Michael.

(She lets her guard down on her way back//to close her eyes and fall asleep - “It was late....I was tired.”)

God of Wine - Third Eye Blind

So clearly the writers were like ‘how can we hurt Milo specifically’ because these lyrics are *so good* as we hear malex talk about the way they view their relationship for the first time in the show.

The music starts just as Michael picks up the old photographs, first of the pod squad, then of himself and Alex playing guitars in the desert. As he packs up the airstream to move it off Foster’s Ranch, Michael is also thinking about the past.

Throughout the series, we’re given a bunch of musical lines about how Michael and Alex can’t go back to what they were, that they have to move forward. And it’s true - as we’ll see over and over again the dynamic they’ve had has been incredibly unhealthy for both of them. But they also cannot avoid the other’s orbit. And when Alex comes to talk to Michael it’s the first time we see him actually decide to initiate - to try and take what he himself wants, rather than waiting or hiding from it. But it is also very much Alex falling back into the ‘madness that holds a truth he can’t erase’ of Michael’s really, very, super, incredibly obvious feelings for him. Our boy is not subtle.

But Alex is still hunted by the past - before we know his history we assume that when Alex references ‘who he was before he went to war’ he means Iraq. But Alex’s war is his father. As much as combat can absolutely be a traumatizing experience, for Alex I never really read that as his main source. As he’ll tell Forrest later - “My PTSD triggers are a little more complicated”.

And so when he tells Michael he’s been thinking about who he was “before he went to war” for me that’s more a callback to who he was before Jesse found the two of them in the toolshed. “When this started.”

As Michael tells him “From where I stand nothing’s changed”  the words “I know, I know, I know” repeat in the background because WE KNOW. We all know, except Alex.

“And that’s a problem for me, Guerin.”

And the siren’s song that is your madness

“Because every time you look at me, I’m seventeen all over again.”

holds a truth I can’t erase

“- and I forget that the last ten years even happened. And then you look away and I remember all over again. And it almost kills me every time.”

All alone on your face

“I never look away. Not really.”

For Michael this is basically confirmation of what he’s been realizing over the last few days - that Alex has been totally misreading him and that yes, Michael, you’re going to have to use your words on this one. 

To which we see Alex’s brain 404-blue-screen for a minute as he realizes what Michael means. Which I personally really appreciate.

And especially since we’ve just learned that a lyric of this song was written on Rosa’s hand the night she died, I can’t believe it’s a coincidence in this being the song that plays underneath this scene - where Alex says he was thinking about who he was before. Everything changed that day for everyone - including Michael and Alex. Michael had gained a terrible secret he couldn’t share, that meant he changed his whole life and started needing to hide and lie and act out, and Alex - not knowing the truth - assumed that it was Michael’s way of trying to push him away and end the relationship. Which leads to the decades long miscommunication of Alex seeing Michael do that over and over again.

For the last ten years, Alex has been seeing Michael as the boy who looks away, then looks back. A Michael whose focus shifts to and away from him and who he sees as wasting his life; directionless and aimless. But as he realizes what Michael is saying he has to recalibrate everything he’s thought their relationship is.

This is possibly the first time Alex has realized that his view of Michael has been wrong. That he really doesn’t know Michael at all.

And we know this interaction has a profound impact on Alex in terms of how he views their relationship. I feel like this is one of those things that becomes a mantra for Alex, later down the line. He repeats it to Michael at Caulfield, and in his song as well, “You never looked away, now I won’t look away” to express his commitment to breaking down the walls he has built up for himself. 

Even though we know the relationship is doomed at this point, it’s the first time a stone falls from the walls Alex has built around himself in a decade.

Here - Chance Peña - 1x03 (Alternate title: “Home”)

Okay I would like to petition to make it illegal to have unreleased songs in episodes, Chance Peña help a bitch out. I had to watch a *fish show* to hear the full lyrics because they’re edited in the show! ( I will also note the next lyric is ‘goodbye, my dear’ which. rude.)

Anyway, we’re given these lyrics as Michael wakes up to seeing Alex has stayed the night. I took the editing, with the previous song choices, to be a reaffirmation of this being something new to Alex, but not necessarily to Michael. Michael knows what he wants from a relationship with Alex - even if he’s put the hope aside from time to time the want is always clear.

For Alex though, a relationship with Michael is something that scares him because of his fear that it can be taken away. (”I just thought that I could be happy, and not be afraid that if I loved anything my dad would destroy it.”) He is trying to make it work - “drawing near” to Michael - but he knows that in order to do that he is going to need to be uncomfortable. To face the fears that have held him back and kept him in comfortable limbo for so long.

I’m also going to flail about how, while RNM has the song listed as ‘Here’, the producer of the other show(Battlefish) identified the song as ‘Home’. I hope I don’t have to yell at y’all, other Roswell New Mexico fans, about how often that word has snuck up on me and knifed me in the back regarding malex. Especially since Alex *is* currently - well, here. With his home. Kill me please it would be kinder.

But then of course we see the old insecurities pop up again as Isobel arrives. Even if he is trying - Alex is nowhere near ready to jump out of the closet yet.

Fast Aint Good Enough - Inkwell Echo (1x06)

I debated adding this one because it’s a little bit reachy, but I thought it was significant in that even when they were seventeen, the thing Alex is ‘afraid of’ is his feelings for Michael - not necessarily of being gay but of what people like Kyle and his father do with information like that.

Wish I’d found the words when we were seventeen-

Kyle asks

“What are you so afraid of?”

-just as Alex catches sight of Michael.

(“I wanted to be the kind of person who won battles. It felt good.”)

Aside from Alex’s general need to protect Michael in any and all situations, I feel like the lyrics of this song - about the singer’s attempt to leave an abusive relationship - underscore that even before the toolshed, Alex was fighting. Even before the toolshed, he has been fighting to this cycle he is trapped in.

While he and Michael build their relationship he starts thinking seriously about leaving and not just surviving but he will ultimately choose to trap himself for years in order to hide his love for Michael.

Like so many gay kids, Alex is fighting a system that deems him guilty of sin - and takes his fighting back as a sign of his guilt. And in order to actually be able to love Michael, he is going to have to figure out how to put down the weapons and the hurt and break the cycle.

First Day Of My Life - Bright Eyes (1x06)

Are they serious right now I swear to god.

So obviously, we’ve got the origins for everything we’re told about Michael and Alex’s lives changing based on their feelings for each other in like two and a half verses of song. Forget the entire second season we have everything we need right here.

“It was the first time I liked our hometown, though.”

-

“Alex made me believe there was a place for me here.”

We know that for both of them this is really a moment of self discovery as much as it is a discovery about each other. 

For Michael in particular, who doesn’t know why he’s here or who he really is, and who previously had no plans besides leaving the planet, this is the moment that he realizes what he wants - to be with Alex.

And for Alex, to me, this moment is a brief glimpse into what his life could be like. We don’t have any confirmation if Michael is his first kiss with a boy or not, but we do know that this moment is significant in that it’s the first that makes Roswell feel like a place he enjoys being.

And as he is realizing that, the lyrics echo it -

But I realized that I need you // And I wondered if I could come home

(Screeching from the background: WOULD YOU COME HOME)

But of course, as the song says, these things take forever because...well....

(It’s because Alex is dumb. My poor dumb emotionally stunted child. Please go to therapy.)

In essence, this is the moment that sets Michael and Alex on their entwined path. The path that Alex will have to fight to get back to - the path Michael will lose faith in before he later starts to regain the hope that it exists. I also like to think about the link between the last lines:

Remember the time you drove all night // Just to meet me in the morning?

and the line from ‘Would You Come Home’

Would you meet me in the middle // Could we both stop keeping score?

I like to think about the parallel here, about meeting people where they’re at, and the love and care and effort it takes to be willing to drive all night to meet someone. Listen a bitch is soft and gay don’t look at me.

You Can’t Love Me - Novi & Tyler Blackburn (1x12)

(*Whispers and rocks back and forth* this is fine it’s all fine)

Once again we have a song whose lyrics give us a tailor made road map to Malex, and will pop up later in ‘Would You Come Home’. We’ve already seen the implosion of the way Michael and Alex have been orbiting each other for a decade, but now that Alex knows the truth, he actually has the ability to understand Michael in ways he hasn’t been able to before. (Something we’ll see later in Season 2 when he talks with Maria.)

And because of that, we see the true beginning of the journey of Michael and Alex back to one another in a healthier way.

But part of that journey is going to be realizing that what they’ve been doing and the way they have loved each other in the past isn’t sustainable - and maybe isn’t even the way they want to love each other.

“They’re my family, Alex!”

“Alright, maybe! But you are mine. I don’t look away, Guerin.”

“No. We’ve been holding onto this thing. And it’s gotten us nowhere. Just let it go.”

Even though the words are said in anger, there is some truth to what Michael says. Their relationship so far hasn’t been a good one. Where Alex is trying to repeat the words that Michael said to him that made such an impact on him, Michael is (well, a, trying to save his dumb boyfriend from getting flambayed) using the opportunity to reveal how little faith he has in their relationship. To say that no, this doesn’t feel like love.

But as much as the song lyrics are about loving someone who isn’t good for you, they’re also about changing and growing, and about a commitment to be better.

(Sound familiar? Brb, I’m gonna go jump off a cliff.)

Love is messy, and especially for Michael and Alex, love has always been something that hurts. “Home is where the hurt is” - and a really important part of their journey is realizing that, and realizing there is a different way of loving each other.

Additionally for Alex, this is when he starts to realize the full extent of his family’s involvement in hunting and hurting Michael’s family. It isn’t just his dad - his entire family line has been involved in this since before Alex was born. And still is. This is really where he starts realizing the roots of the guilt and shame he’s going to have to deal with in order to be anything to Michael - not even a partner but a friend.

This is the first step in that journey. Not just the commitment that yes - I want to build a home for you - but that first, I don’t know, maybe I need to put down these weapons and pick up a different set of tools?

ON TO SEASON TWO

[bluebellwriting]

Mom-Friend Looking for a Dad-Friend Part 2

You’re sitting in your office, going over some case notes from your last session with Paul. The poor thing has really been missing his husband. You never had the pleasure of meeting Hugh, but from the way Paul talks, he was a wonderful man and a loving partner. You’re sure you would have loved him. 

Your door pings and without looking up you beckon your guest to come in. The familiar sound of hooves on metal draw your eyes upward to Saru who looks... horrible. 

His skin is pale, eyes watery and pained, and he’s sniffling. Never in the time you’ve known him have you seen Saru look so vulnerable or so openly in pain. It’s a strange and horrible sight, and you want nothing more than to wrap him in your arms, and hug and kiss the pain away.

“Oh, Saru!” You stand and usher him over to the small couch in your office. He looks gigantic compared to it, but he sinks into the soft cushions and lets out a content sigh. Once he’s seated and you can actually reach his face, you place a hand on to his forehead.

“You’re burning up, you poor thing.” Saru leans into your touch, forgetting for a moment the immense pain he’s in, just relishing in the coolness of your hands. You’re so sweet, so lovely, such an angel. 

“Saru,” your voice draws him back out of the fever’s void. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you in med bay?”

“I wanted,” he breathes, “to come see you. It’s nicer here.”

“But you need help. More help than I’m equipped to give you right now.”

You try to move away but a hand on your waist -- Saru’s hand -- keeps you there.

“I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”

He leans his head back to lean against the wall, but you’re still being held in his grasp. Which honestly isn’t fair, you need to be helping him right now and the feeling of his large fingers holding you close is just so distracting.

“Saru, please. Let me take you to med bay, or at least back to your room. My couch is too tiny for you, you giant.” 

Saru sighs but lethargically rises from the couch. His hand remains on you though, gliding up from your waist to your back to your shoulder, using you like a tether to keep him from plummeting into something horrible. The longer this “cold” persists, the more it occurs to him that this isn’t a rhinovirus. But maybe he can just fall into you, let the embrace you have over him keep upright for just a little bit longer. 

You have to hold on to him with all your might to keep him from falling over in the halls. He refused to go to med bay, afraid of the inevitable. He wasn’t ready yet, there was still so much to do, so much to tell, to say to you. The issue of needing to confess his love to you now before he disappears forever is weighing on his mind just as much as the news of his impending death. But it wouldn’t be fair to you, especially if you didn’t return his feelings. To pour his heart out only to expire and leave you with the guilt of not loving him back would be far too cruel.

You’re about to reach his quarters and Saru is lost in a day dream of resting his head in your lap, letting your thighs cushion and comfort him. But Michael had to ruin that with a desperate call to the bridge.

You graciously helped him there but were called back to med bay at that by Dr. Pollard, who was desperately understaffed. You left him in a rush, a promise to check on him at every possible moment, and one last lovely sight of the back of your head.

---

The med bay was overrun with your wounded crew mates after... whatever had happened. You’re still not quite sure. Right now all of your attention is on checking vitals and applying hypos. But when Saru comes stumbling into the room, it’s like you have tunnel vision. All you’re able to see is how considerably worse he’s gotten, how he can’t even support himself anymore. He has such powerful legs, it’s strange seeing them so weak.

You finished quickly and rushed over to him, not even trying to hide the partiality you felt towards him. That’s when he told you that he was dying, that the man you were falling in love with was going to disappear from this realm within mere hours. You almost burst into tears then and there, but Saru was determined now, motivated to use what time he had left to save his crew. He didn’t need you blubbering over him or confessing your love (which you’re sure he didn’t reciprocate) to distract him. This is how he wanted to spend his final hours, and you were ready to honor that.

But it hurt. A very selfish part of you wanted him to want to spend these last hours with you. That same part so desperately wanted you to confess your love to him, to scream out into the world how deeply into him you had fallen. But a bigger part, the therapist, the maternalist, tells you that you can’t. That he doesn’t need the weight of some girl’s affections on his fatigued shoulders. He needs to rest and to work, he doesn’t need to be concerned for you right now.

So you stay quiet and resist the urge to check in with him and Michael every minute. You use what you remember from medical school to help patients who you can actually save. You try not let the those dim, teal eyes haunt you throughout the day.

---

You’ve just returned to your office after your long day assisting in med bay when you get the call from Michael. You’re tired, your arms are achy and your back feels like it’s holding up a thousand pound stone. But when she calls you, you’re out of your seat and down the hall before she can even finish.

He’s okay, she says. He wants to see you.

When you enter his quarters he’s on his bed, shirtless, and very much not dead. In fact, the color has returned to his face and his eyes are alight with a kind of energy you’ve never seen from him before. On his end table in a small bowl rests his... ganglia. The sight of them is enough to distract you from his shirtlessness.

“Saru!”

His eyes meet yours and he grins. You hug him before you can even think about it because he’s alive. He’s breathing and smiling and hugging you back. He’s alive.

“I was so worried. I was thinking about you all day and I--”

“I’m sorry.”

You pull back to look up at him but you keep your shoulders on his forearms, just to make sure he’s here with you. It’s definitely not because you like the way his skin feels against yours.

“Why?”

“I...” he breathes out. “I came in here with all intentions to... And I didn’t get to say goodbye.” 

Your shoulders deflate and you remove your hands from him entirely. He came in here to die with Michael. He wanted Michael to be here instead of you. 

You take a step back, trying not to look hurt because this isn’t about you and your feelings. You should just be grateful that he’s alive. 

Plus, Michael’s known him for longer. And she’s stronger and more brilliant and more attractive than you, of course, he’d want her here with him. Of course, he’d choose her.

You hide your disappointment behind your best and brightest smile.

“It’s alright. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m just happy you’re here,” you tell him. He smiles at you again and proceeds to tell you everything that had transpired since you had seen him med bay. About his revelations regarding his people, about the freedom he now feels, about the conversations he had had with Michael. You try to be happy for him and in a way you are. You’re thrilled about his new relationship with his culture and his mind, and heartbroken with him over this new truth he has stumbled upon. But you have to force down the anguish you feel every time he mentions Michael.

---

You’ve been avoiding Saru since his vahar’ai, making up reasons for why you couldn’t eat dinner or listen to music with him. Sure it was cowardly, but you could take cowardice over the feelings he brought up for you. Every moment you did spend with him was just a reminder that he could do so much better, that your feelings were useless because he was probably in love with Michael or some other amazing person on this ship that wasn’t you.

Yes, you’re aware that if a patient of yours was acting so childish you would have told them to confront their problem head-on. But you’re only human and sometimes it’s just easier to descend into the pit of repression, no matter how psychologically damaging it might be.

That’s how your sister had put it when she had confronted you about your “increased workload” and frequent nights hidden away in your quarters.

“So what? You’re just gonna hideaway from him forever?” Sylvia asked.

“No! Not forever,” you pouted. “Just until I have to return to the Enterprise with Captain Pike.”

“Don’t remind me that that’s a possibility. I’ve loved having you here with me all the time.”

“I have too.” You smile at her. “But ultimately my home is on the Enterprise and this just... affirms that maybe this isn’t the right place for me.”

“But you are perfect for Saru!”

“That doesn’t matter, Syl. What matters is what he wants and I don’t think that will ever be me.”

“In that case... have you considered a rebound? Maybe that ensign that’s shown some interest in you,” she teases and you shudder at the thought of him.

“Mark? No, no way. He’s just a flirt who can’t take a hint.”

“Okay, then someone else! Oh! Maybe at the party next weekend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come onnnnnnn.” Sylvia flops onto your lap, sending you her best pleading eyes. 

“Ugh, no. I hate parties. The loud music, the bumping and grinding.”

“You’re such an old lady. Please? If you really want to get over him, a rebound might be the best way.” She nudges your shoulder.

“Syl,” you sigh. “I think that’s the problem. This isn’t something that can be fixed with a rebound, assuming I can even get one.”

Your sister sends you a glare, screaming ‘knock it off with that self-criticalness.’

“I just mean,” you continue. “This feels so different. I feel so different about him, more than I’ve ever felt about anyone and it just hurts to much knowing I can’t have him. He’s not someone I could just get over with a casual fling.”

“Why are you so convinced he doesn’t like you? You should know by now that he’s way different around you, way happier, way more relaxed. I don’t think it’s as out of the question as you think.”

You shrug because you can’t put it into words. It’s a feeling, deep in your gut, telling you that he’s going to break your heart if you’re not careful. You’ve already let your guard down too much.

“Well, how about we make it a girls night? We can dress up all fancy and dance~” Sylvia interjects, bringing you out of your cloud of negativity.

“...Fine. But I’ll only stay for a few minutes.”

---

Sylvia left your quarters with a conniving grin. She taps her comm badge.

“Tilly to Commander Burnham.”

“Burnham here. What’s going on, Tilly?”

“Can you meet with me in the spot?

There’s a short pause, but Sylvia knows Michael is grinning just as wickedly.

“I’ll be right there.”

“The spot” is really just their shared quarters but the two decided long ago that neither you nor Saru could learn about their secret meetings to get you two together. These meetings began as casual chats or with Michael complaining about the goo-goo eyes Saru would send you from across the room. Ultimately, this became the war room in the infernal battle to bring together two souls who were so obviously meant to be together but were too dorky to actually do anything about it.

“Did you tell her about the party?” Michael asks as soon as the door closes behind her.

“Yes! And she actually agreed which is the real miracle here. What about Saru?”

Michael sighs, “we’re gonna have to work on that.”

“What do you mean? What have you been telling him?”

“That there’s a party and it might be fun for him to socialize and relax.”

Sylvia looks at her incredulously.

“What?” Michael cries. “If I say, ‘oh, and (Y/N) will be there in a sexy dress,’ he’s going to panic and not show up at all.”

“How is he, by the way? Any better?”

Michael sighs and flops on her bed. Truth be told, Saru had been a nightmare and was making no attempt to hide it. He had been agitated every since his vahar’ai and everyone on the bridge was convinced it was because he wasn’t getting his daily dose of you. 

There was a pattern. He’d report for duty each morning with a hopeful look in his eyes. He’d send you a message asking if you wanted to have lunch. He’d receive ‘no’ as an answer. He’d ask about dinner. Again a ‘no.’ He’d mope for about a solid hour, and then be cranky for the rest of the day. At first it was kind of amusing, seeing the usually cool and collected Kelpien reduced to a depressed dork because of you. But now it was just annoying and infuriating, with a hint of sad.

“He’s getting worse. He doesn’t even snap at people anymore. He just mopes. Have you told (Y/N)?”

“Even if I did, she wouldn’t believe me. She’s so convinced that he’s actually in love with you.”

They burst out laughing at that. 

“Okay, okay,” Sylvia breathes, recovering from their fit of giggles. “You should tell him that she’s going to be there and that he should get a grip and whisk her off her feet. I have a feeling pushing him into the deep end on this will finally motivate him.”

“Are you going to tell (Y/N)?”

“Mmm, no. I think it should be a surprise.”

[deepdonutkid]

Tracing a shadow

Pairing: None

Requested: No

Word Count: 2360 words

Warnings: Drug use mentioned, abuse mentioned

Summary: Henry Johnson learns about his real family. Years ago he was Michael Gray, now he comes back to meet his mother and is desperate in search of his sister, Anna. 

Author’s Note:  This is the first part of probably two, I made a cut because I am way too eager to post this. It’s my first piece of writing in the english language, so please… if you notice something unfamiliar, mention it. I need this to get better, cus starting to write in a new language is like starting at zero again. I’m very self-conscious about this. I really tried my best to capture the scene, hinting for the second part which is more about the sister. Personally I think this got quite sad and Michael is skeptical at first, because of the way he was treated in the past. I like Michael as a character a lot, because right from the start there is something off about him and he isn’t that easy to like. Actually I end up hating characters who are built to be liked or sympathetic, because I am really not a touchy feely type of person.  And I still hope that season six will change the fate for Michael, which is unlikely because his way seemed to be planned all along. 

And virtual kisses and hugs for every like, reblog, comment or else! 

Do not repost my work

It was a hard day for Henry, actually a hard week, too much for a person of his young age. He wasn’t eighteen and yet he picked all of his belongings, packed it in a suitcase and took the train to Birmingham. That is where his mother lived, his real mother, not the woman who raised him the past few years. Henry was unbelievably sorry, when he left the house while his mum was still crying, but he had to and she had to understand that. He had to go see that woman. Since the man came around and told Henry where to find her, he could not stop himself from thinking about it. About her. This alone brought him to the verge of tears. How many years have passed? Was she still the same woman? Would she recognize him? The questions kept breaking down on him until he could not stand it anymore.

Then he left. Easy as that. The whole train ride he kept staring at the piece of paper with the address written on it in a messy handwriting. The small wrinkly letters haunted him. He still knew the street. That is where he grew up, before his mother lost custody. Henry was around six years old when they took him. Suddenly he had a lump in his throat and his heart started beating with twice the speed. The palms of his hands were sweaty and no matter how many times he rubbed them on his pants, it would not help.

His head was a mess when he finally arrived at the house. Long lost memories came back. Not a good thing to happen. With nervous eyes he looked around. This was the right place, the right door. Behind that was his old life and he didn’t think he would have come back to it so soon. There was Elisabeth Gray. Was she expecting him? Apparently not, because even after he could bring himself to knock on the door nobody answered. Then he knocked again and again. The outcome was still the same. He stood alone on the street as the sky was getting darker.

So there was nobody home. Good to know, he thought and went to the tavern for the night. While doing that he couldn’t stop asking himself if this was a stupid idea all along. He knew this woman. She wouldn’t have changed for the better. Probably, she was still a drinker and couldn’t open the door, because she was asleep on the couch. And why would his sister come back to this mess?

The next day it was still the same, but he was angry and nervous enough to keep waiting. The night before, he couldn’t stay any minute longer, because he knew that the neighborhood was shady. Now he had the time and the patience to stand in front of the closed door that seemed to mock him. Well, he couldn’t just enter. Henry wasn’t part of the household and he certainly did not have a key for this house.

This was no fairytale where he would come back home and everything would turn out great. Henry just needed to know that his mum was still alive, still was the same chaotic person and then he would ask about his sister. What would follow that? He did not know. Maybe he searched for his sister, maybe something else depending on how his mum would treat him.

Henry turned around whenever a woman of suitable age passed. She finally arrived. Oh, he should consider himself lucky! At first she was confused and Henry tried to be nice to her, since he needed information. It was his first challenge, because she smelled like liquor and sex. Even he, who grew up in the small village where nothing ever happened, knew that smell. Her hair was a tangled mess; he could barely see her face.

He licked his lip like he always did when he was on edge. Then he explained himself and the reason why he had shown up at her door this morning and he couldn’t intercept mentioning that he made a quick visit the evening before.

She dropped the keys. Henry was a nice boy, so he picked them up but when the cold metal touched his hands, something strange occurred to him. Now he could let himself in, into the house that was once his home. Then he did. It was somehow messy and cluttered, but it didn’t look like his memories. Back then his family didn’t have a lot of money. Whenever there was a need, his parents would do something illegal and the problem was solved. His mum wasn’t a whore, he knew that at least, but they would steal and rob. All his life he was told what his family did to survive was wrong and he stopped questioning it, but it seemed like things worked out in their favor. In every corner was something golden, tacky figures of horses. He left that uncommented.

Wherever he looked he saw something gold and she was wearing quite a few golden rings and earrings. So she stayed true to the gypsy traditions. Henry couldn’t even say if he behaved like one of them. In the orphanage the priest told him that he would beat every drop of gypsy blood out him and it sort of worked. At least that is what Henry thought. He didn’t feel like a Romani, but of course he didn’t know what that meant. It was just a word for him, not his heritage. Maybe if he had stayed and this woman had raised him he would have given a different answer.

He didn’t recognize her. She was a stranger and whenever he tried to remember her face in his memories there was just a blurred spot. What a strange thing, he thought, somehow he knew the house, the street and other things, but the face of his mother felt unfamiliar. Despite how hungover and baffled she was, she made him breakfast. And god, he was hungry. Since he had woken up that day he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Too nervous and that always hit him in the gut.

The food was okay, but he emptied the plate in no time and then thanked her for the meal, like the good boy he was. That was done now and he had questions, tons and tons of it. His first was about her occupation and apparently she was no cook. Then he asked about that man, who visited the Johnson household days ago, the man, who had given him the information Henry sought so long. Well, he didn’t actually want to come back to this woman, this useless mother, who had beaten him, but that was not the main reason for his return. His sister was. Yet his rationality obliged him to start with his search at the beginning and the rich man was a good start.

The woman- he couldn’t bring himself to call her his mother yet- explained: ‘He works with horses.” Much to Henry's surprise, because he had a great passion for them too. He told her that and even mentioned his brown mare.

Her reaction was enthusiastic, too much for his taste. ‘It’s in the blood”, she said and Henry wouldn’t believe her. As if he still had any gypsy blood in him. Wasn’t it beaten out of him by the hand of a priest? And this woman, who had done nothing but to drink, smoke opium and yell in the first years of his life, knew apparently more about him than he did. But he didn’t get mad, though, he had too many questions to start a fight now. Henry knew his top priority very well.  

He was ready to proceed, but was left confused by her upcoming question. If it was okay, that she was his real mother? That sounded much like he had a choice or a saying in that. How could he change which woman had given birth to him? He phrased it nearly like that and she agreed with him. Then she repeated her former issue, which made him think again. The house seemed empty. There was no drunken dad around here. He couldn’t see any open bottles lying around and no pipe. Could have been worse, right?

With a burst through the door other noises came along. Voices and they yelled. He didn’t know who that was, but screaming was never a good thing in this house, that was burned into his brain. So he stood up, ready to leave again to prevent trouble.  Three men rushed into the room, faster than he could have escaped.

What an uncomfortable situation did he find himself into? Grown men were playing war with wooden guns and the woman came quick to console him. He didn’t like her touch and stiffened. This was weird and nobody could have denied that. Everyone could feel the confusion in the little chamber.

The men stopped and then glared at Henry, which wasn’t very welcoming at all. Their smiles revealed that they knew more than they would say and there was something dead and cold in their blue eyes. But Henry recognized the third man. It was the rich guy, who had shown up at the fence just when his mum had called for dinner. Now he was standing right next to Henry and padding his shoulder as they would know each other. Henry gave him a puzzled look as the man spoke with a dark deep voice. ‘That’s our cousin, Michael.’

Even though his words weren’t meant for Henry, he could pull out some information. These three men were his cousins, so a proper greeting was mandatory. This was also a chance to gain distance to the woman, known as Elisabeth Gray. Henry shook hands with them and then learned their names. One was Arthur, the other named John. Later he learned that the last was called Tommy. His name was Thomas Shelby, but just a few people would call him like that. Others called him the devil.

Just in this moment he was a stranger to Henry and it was odd to be called Michael. He knew that this was his name and sometimes when he couldn’t sleep he would say his name so he wouldn’t forget the sound of it. The past few years he hadn’t been called Michael, so it was unusual to him and felt like he was wearing the clothes of somebody else. It didn’t fit, he thought, but then again, he would have to get used to it. His sister, as he had known her, would gladly refuse to call him Henry.

And the stories about how they would have fun as children scared him somehow. He had little to no memories about these particular events and remembering was hurtful. Michael could have tried, but then why would he do something like that to himself? It was not like they had the right to question him. ‘I really can’t remember anything’, he lied with a meaningless laugh, but then added a little truth: ‘Except for the day when they took me away.’

As expected they were muted. The woman hurried as fast as she could and with tears in her eyes she hugged him. He just stood there not moving at all, because he didn’t know what to do and if he should hug her too. Maybe she just needed a moment, he said to himself and felt a wave of relief when she finally got away.

On top of that lunacy the third man welcomed him to the Shelby family as if that word had any meaning to him. He should feel grateful though. That was the right thing to do. The long lost son coming back home, needing a hug and a kiss from mum… Well no, not like that and he didn’t like the position he was in. That role just didn’t suit him and he felt rigid by thinking about it.

Suddenly everyone was so glad to see him and they were making big plans of showing him around. Around where? This lumpy little neighborhood? And they said it with pride in their voices as they were kings so amazed by their edenic territory. Michael wasn’t so sure about their greatness yet. He still had other things in his mind and he wouldn’t be blinded by their sudden kindness. Everybody was kind first and cruel after. He learned that the hard way.

Finally his cousins left. And he could argue big time about their intentions, but their suits were nice and probably expensive, without a question. Michael thought about buying and wearing suits like that on a daily basis, however he was lacking the money. That was a good thing about his new found- long lost family. They seemed to be rich, measured by the golden stuff around the house and the way they dressed.

The two were alone again. For hours they talked and talked, but it was meaningless to him. There wasn’t anything he hadn’t already expected. Polly, as he would call her from now on, told him about the family. How rich they are, that they own some businesses, that she was the treasurer, things that were nice to know but didn’t really matter.

Later she left for work, excused herself about a thousand times, and he searched for Tommy to make a call. Initially, he told his mum that he would be here just for the day only, but after spending hours with this woman, he still hadn’t one single clue about his sister. So he had to stay and they didn’t seem so bad though. Of course they were criminals and betting shops were highly illegal, but at least they didn’t pretend to be holy and innocent. This added to the fact that he would rather cut his right hand off, than go back to the same  boring village where he came from.

He wouldn’t leave without answers, but where he’d go after was still a thing in planning.

[psychemeanscure]

PART 24 {Did I scare you from the previous part? 😌 sorry~🙈 It won’t be the ending though until you’ll see the word Fin. So yeah😉}

“Hide.”

“Hide, princess. Hide.”

“But appa----“

“Just run away now, Sung Eunyoung. Hide!”

A dawning nights of thunderous rains clattering through every roofs of homes, deafening silent dreams of solemnness. But not for the Sung Mansion. A panicking patriarch silently waking up a clueless young daughter who is just peacefully sleeping. Rubbing an eye from its sleepy mien.

“Appa?”

Her soft voice which only responded by a hush. Confused, yet just enough to get terrified after hearing the sturdy banging behind her bedroom door. Sleepiness instantly vanished. “W-what’s happening, appa?”

Fear came upon the young self. For there she is, being obliged to go down a secret basement of the bedroom her architect father built just for her. A secret passage through their gates exit. Then again she pushed to peek and witness everything and she did for there it is, men in black surrounding his blooded father and the merciless leader she can never forget.

~

“Hide.”

“Hide, Jang Taeyoung!!”

But it was him. It was his name she keeps on uttering now. She on the dirt of soil and scratches, pouring tears of fear. It became a routine of her consciousness. The day she witnessed her father’s death and how it changed into seeing Jang Taeyoung’s blooded one. 3 years. Three years had passed but she can still remember it clearly. Dreams that was once occupied by her father is with his added. The once revenge she aimed is her today’s anguished.

Afraid that someone might see her with a shattering state, she quickly went inside the bathroom and approach the nearest sink. Washing out the remarks of her endless tears. She dreamt of him again. It was a nap but it always feels like forever.  

She cannot forget how she left him even after being saved. Neither did she ask about him ever if he could have been alive or not? She wouldn’t know for she felt guilty all of a sudden that leaving is the only thing she can think of to repent her faults.

She blamed herself and she is still now. Her name was on run back then anyway so fleeing is the most sensible reason to escape. She shamelessly saved her own in the end. A total bitch she agrees.        

“There you ar----“

“Hey!”

She was startled. A person who has no decency for privacy opens the door. “Do you really can’t control that attitude of yours? Dios mío.” She hated it. She hated when even just a small gesture from others, she can remember him. Massaging her temple, she asked. “What is this time?”

“My bad, amiga but I haven’t seen you around your desk. So I suppose you’re here, I can’t never be wrong indeed. You cried again? Jeez. What’s really in that nightmares of yours that it keeps haunting you. Are you a runaway bride or something?”

And yes, they’re talking in Spanish. The nosy questions coming from the nosy mouth of the other that she needed to butt in, facing the latter with irritation. A hand resting on the sink while the free one on the waist. “Judy, if you’re running out of stories to tell, will you please exclude my private ones and shut up? Cut the chase por favor.”   

Judy who’s racing her arms to surrender, defended herself. “Okay, okay. Relax, will you? As I was saying, I came to your desk to put the files you requested about the incoming book fair this week.”

Instantly, her mood brightens up as she had been reminded about the program which proceeds will be a much help for the orphanage they are rendering. Checking each files with anticipation. “You like that?”

“Very.”

She’s all smiles from ear to ear that Judy can’t help but wonder. “Know what? If you really love kids, then make your own. I feel pity for your genes. Heck, if only I’ve been blessed with that kind of face I think I’m already sleeping with tons of Michael Angelo now.”

Rolling her eyes, she countered. “You, and your mouth, Judy. Did I ever say, I won’t? Spare me, please!”

“Oh yeah? Like how you intentionally dump all your admirers? What a great excuse from you, amiga.”

“Shut up, will you? Tss.”

“Whatever. Anyway, speaking of. The kids just arrive, waiting for your presence already.”

Judy reminds as it was also enough for her to be left on her own as Sung Eunyoung hurriedly went out without further ado. Sighing for being betrayed, she followed instead.

“Profesora!!”

The harmonic chimes of the children as they surrounded her with hugs and kisses as she bent over them. Stroking their hair with tender greetings. “How are you, mi estudiantes?”

“Great! Very great! Yes, we are. We miss you.”

For she has been bombarded with various answers she cannot dare to ignore.

Gone the business venturer her as she is only an ordinary lecturer now. Simply sitting by a tree as she tells tales to what she considered her children. Filling the empty space in her. “Hey, have you heard?”

Judy bringing back its nosiness once again right after she ask her students for a drawing class. Frowning, she faced her co-worker. “Again, Judy? Can you at least zip that blabber mouth of yours just for a day?”

“Hey! That’s too harsh of you.”

“Why? Isn’t it true?”

“Jeez. Your frankness in its finest. Well, let me tell you amiga. It’s a fact this time. Try me.”

She can only shake her head as the former continues her gathered information anyway. Little she knew a piece of it will rise a hidden hopefulness in her. “Russian.”

“I heard a Russian clan takes a big part of sponsoring our book fair. The Oblonsky even donated a number for the orphanage. Books, shelter, name it all. It was said that a Korean man will actually turn as their representative. A Russian elite entrusting an Asian man? How peculiar, right?”

She can only respond a stutter. “W-who’s clan did you say it is?”

“The Oblonsky. And you know what’s more enthralling?” She stilled. As she turned to her unbothered companion who’s still delighted by its own story. Right then, Judy leans for a whisper as if afraid to share it to anyone but her. “A dear acquaintance of mine said this damn representative has a figure of a perfect hottie, amiga. Oh my, how I can picture and meet this mysterious man of my dreams.”      

The robust daydreaming of it which just left unheard on her for the only thought running through her mind was the information bestowed upon that she needed to leave the off-guard Judy who’s continuously calling her name from afar. She has to confirm it and if meeting him is the only answer, then be it. Pulling out her phone before stepping in her car, she decided.

“Where are you?”  

~

Fidgeting her nails for waiting, she can’t attain anymore. The Russian Oblonsky clan or better well said the elite mafia gang who saved her foster parents from being hostage back then. The one she just knew he sought for help. Plus, that Korean man. “Dammit.”

She can only curse as everything just gets worse for her to absorb. Brushing her face as she didn’t notice the arrival of the person she contacted who’s now sitting across her. “What’s with that low face that makes you grumpy s---“

“Tell me what happened to him.”

Left confused, the person answers her anyway. “What? Who are you talking about?”

“The f*cking info you knew about him. Tell me all, now!”

Finally interpreted what she meant. He can only bulge his eyes from crunching. “Are you talking about brother? Finally, sis?”

She can only be silent for admitting. “J-just… just give it to me, Zilo.”

Zilo. Yes, she’s indeed meeting the Zilo Alcaziar who killed his own father. The unexpected savior they didn’t saw coming. Thus the seriousness between them came as the introduction of their subject reopened. “Will you believe me if I say he’s dead?”

A sting inside her broke as her skin shivered with disbelief.

“D-don’t… Don’t play with me, Zilo…”

But Zilo just led his head to look down. “Right... How can you trust a person who once harmed you?” He really means it, she can tell. “He vanished.”

“W-what?”

“That’s what I assumed at first when I went back to the scene as the authorities keeps searching for his body. I thought some of his men may have manage to escape their boss. To be honest, I do not actually know the real thing happened to brother but seeing how they found evidences of his death, I can’t help but realize the possibility sis. Believe me, I trie---“

“Stop.”    

She needed to stop him before her heart will explode from hurting further. She had foreseen it, she just tried to ignore that it’s not. Hearing it makes her regret asking even as the sorrowful face of Zilo takes in. “I’m sorry…”

Seeing his downgrade stance, she can only sigh from its remorse. She can’t deny, she felt sorry for him as well. “As much as I thank you, I still hate you though.”

“I know. If only I reach in time, I could have save you both sis. Fath—could haven’t got the chance to slip and pull the trigger. I’m really sorry, I really do.” It was as if an unspoken secret from a box revealed its bits for the last time as his whispering apologies continues. Suppressing a drop of tear on her eye, she chooses to glance the shore by the window glass beside them.

“Forget it. It’s all in the past anyway. It’s not like we can bring back the time and change it.”

She thought three years could have been enough to heal her wounded soul but just a simple brought out, the facades breaking so easily. Silence visited once again. “You know what, Zil?” before she initiated to break it, turning to face him who’s as well looking by the shore like she does. “Hm?”

“I still wonder why you shot your own father. I do learn that you’re somehow fighting against him, but to save us? I can’t seem to search for a reason.”

His eyes never left the shore as he speaks. “It’s because it reminded me of how he killed my own mother.”  

All she could do then, is listen. “I almost forgot about it, you know. The warmth. The warmth he stole from me when I was a kid. And brother… A younger brother he never had. Just like that, a mere phrase he simply pulled back for me. I thank him for that, and for the nth time, I’m really sorry. For everything. For you. For being a dimwit, for being too late. I really am, sis.”  

Sincerity. For the first time she felt it from him. She may have not known what happened between him and Jang Taeyoung before the incident. Yet one thing’s for sure. Her loco, did a good job. “And I have forgiven you for that. Remember it now, Zilo.”

Giving him a small smile, she intended to light their atmosphere and she did as she was reciprocated by its own smile when finally turning to her. “Alright! So much for the drama. Shall we just order our food now?”

~

Clatters from the utensils can only be heard as they chew their own food when Zilo happens to thought of something. “Sis?”

“Yes?”

“I know this is too much for me to ask, but have you…uhm--- nah, it’s nothing.”

Sensing his hesitation, she obliged him. “Just say it, Zilo.”

Clearing a throat, he had no choice but to push. “Well, w-what I mean was that… perhaps, are you waiting for him? Brother?”

She was halt from her actions then as she was staring to her food, keeping to tap the spoon’s tip on her plate. “What makes you think I am?”

“Because I do think you are. You have been a transparent lioness easy to read ever since you lost him, sis that before you knew your once intricacy became your vulnerability.  That what you are today. You just failed to notice it.”                

She can never be as silent as she is right now indeed.

Leaning by the backrest of his seat, Zilo can see right through her. “So you’re really waiting for him, huh?”

‘Am I?’

She thought for herself.

[zenosungs]

laughable/lachrymose

Danganronpa V3 | Kokichi/Shuichi | Rated T

Toast is easy to make, right? Easy to make. You put the bread in the toaster and you wait and you spread honey on it when it’s done. Shuichi likes toast with honey. It’s easy. Kokichi needs easy. He can do this.

Ignoring the voices that have started screaming at him again he fumbles with the bag of bread, barely managing to fish a slice out, hands latching onto it in a seizing grasp so tight it almost crumbles in his hand. Flashes of hot and cold ravaging his body, he practically shoves it in the toaster, aching, hurting, shattering.

(OR: a fragmented road to recovery)

note:

drv3 spoilers!!

tw // suicidal thoughts tw // kokichi's death, miu's death, gonta's death (not directly stated but vague details) tw // unhealthy coping mechanisms

this entire thing is a bit heavy in general so please proceed with caution. it's not so shippy because my goal isn't to romanticize any of this, shuichi isn't a magical being who can heal kokichi with his words and touch, and he's also on the path of recovery as well

this was all written as a word vomit vent thing in one sitting so just lmk if you spot mistakes

i care about you, please reach out to someone when you need to

READ ON AO3! 

--

He should be asleep.

Kokichi should, but then again, there are a lot of things he should be doing—healing, resting, blocking all memories out—though night terrors and bubbling trepidation and the inability to close his eyes without feeling the cold metal beneath him has proved to be a hindrance. He stays awake more often than he doesn’t, which is something entirely beyond his control; no matter the soothing words Shuichi mumbles in the dead of night, or the way he always keeps Kokichi close by in a loose yet comforting hold, he can’t sleep.

He doesn’t anymore. He’s stopped trying, anyway.

(It goes deeper beyond the label he hides behind as just insomnia. If insomnia can be defined as “persistent problems falling and/or staying asleep,” can it really be just insomnia if he’s the one who’s forcing himself to stay awake? If he only faces more sickening memories when his eyes are closed, what’s the point? Or maybe, just maybe, he’s lying to himself again, something like youdon’twantanyofthoseoptionsyouwanttodisappear—but as he always does, he lets the lie bleed into him until it is him. Until there’s nothing left to call a lie.)

He could be a zombie now, he’s sure of it. With the way he’s roaming around the apartment at—a glance at the clock—4 in the morning, and the way he certainly feels undead, calling himself a zombie doesn’t seem too far off. Shuichi’s grip on him, however loose it may have been, was getting too suffocating anyway.

He sits on the couch. Stares at a TV that’s playing nothing.

Deep breath in—

(...shut up, you asshole! the whizzing of an arrow through heavy air—kaito, can you hear me, please drink this antidote sorry, but i can’t die here… since i’m the mastermind of this killing game—redwhitehotsearingmetalcold—)

He scrambles to turn the TV on.

It’s so funny. The way they never stop fucking talking like a mixtape of voices ringing in his head even though everything is over and done with, oh god, he shouldn’t be dragging this out like he is, because none of it even happened. If none of it happened, why does he always feel the phantom pain of arrows digging into his flesh, or the descension of metal onto someone so petite—it all certainly felt so real, still feels so real—

—It’s not, and he knows that. He woke up from the simulation. Fought until there was no fight in him left. Until his lungs turned to ashes and pretty amethyst hair was yanked out of his scalp (by his doing, everything bad is always by his doing, so it seems) and so many eyes came to check in on him each day he spent recovering slowly in the hospital.

Is he supposed to feel relieved?

Happy? Glad that he’s awake from all of that? It’s alarming, really, that he feels nothing of the sort. What is he supposed to feel? Even if Saihara-chan had told him that any of his feelings were valid—anger, bitterness, resentment and horror—why does he still feel like nothing? Not numbness, but akin to it, certainly, because numbness is where you feel nothing, but simultaneously he feels like nothing. Like everything. Like death. Like life he doesn’t want breathed into him.

The TV drones on, white noise in the back of his head. He could make this work. That’s right. He’s adapted before. He can make himself feel okay again, or lie himself into thinking so, because that’s how it always ends, doesn’t it?

On shaky legs, he blocks out the voices; abhorrent Maki’s, strained Kaito’s, harsh Shuichi’s, tearful Gonta’s, desperate Miu’s, all of them cherry-picked from every single corner of his mind that he can’t ever find a way to escape anymore.

He stumbles, wandering without a purpose over to the bathroom, a trembling hand pushing open the door and flicking on the light. Headache-inducing fluorescent light flickers overhead, until it floods the capacity of the room, bearing enough light for him to be able to survey himself in the mirror.

He looks dead. Or, more so, like he could die. Right now, and maybe put an end to everything. An end to nothing. How does he fucking escape? How can he live like this? Or with this, the knowledge of everything he did in the killing game, his sacrifice, the hatred in everyone’s voices that he doubtlessly deserved?

Kokichi giggles, low and empty, as he turns the faucet on with a squeak and splashes cold water on his face. He could totally die right now. The way that brings more relief to him than anything else ever since the simulation is so laughable.

I could die. Right now. It’s as simple as using the sink or smashing my head against the bathtub. How hilarious.

Giving one final splash of frigid water onto a pale face, he turns the sink off, and allows himself a small moment of breathing. He’s been so bad at that lately, both him and Saihara. Everyone, really. No one is near being the textbook definition of okay, but they all didn’t expect to be either, although the one stark difference between them and him is that they’ve accepted that they’re going to recover slowly and reach okayness once again.

So why does he feel so stuck? Whenever he runs away from the echoing whirr of the hydraulic press it clutches him in its grasp again, and whenever he embraces it it makes him relive the entire scene over and over and over again in ways so sickening he feels like he just gets worse with each damn passing night—gasping for air even when he doesn’t sleep, awakening in cold sweat if he does manage to doze—maybe there’s nothing for him left here, fuck, why didn’t they just let him stay dead—

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. He could do the anxiety coping technique, or he could listen to music as a distraction, or he could go back to bed and pretend none of this is happening, or he could do the breathing method (in for four, hold for seven, out for eight), anything.

He could eat something. He could do that.

Shuichi’s been reprimanding him for his neglect of food anyway (even though the bluenette isn’t all that better at it) so in a way, this could serve as an apology for his inability to be a good person, boyfriend, living human being, all of that. For causing him so much trouble. For interfering with Shuichi’s own recovery process, even though it’s the last thing Kokichi wants to do. Unfortunately, the universe has a lovely addiction to just screwing him over.

Swallowing past a gag, because all of this thinking is so overwhelmingly nauseating, Kokichi stumbles out of the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light off. Everything is always so loud at night, everything is doused in so much more clarity, to the point where he can see them clearly. Miu’s face, terrified and contorted, even though it was just her avatar he still recalls so clearly the look of utter anguish on her actual corpse. Gonta’s baffled and horrified look when Kokichi wouldn’t stop yelling and yelling and yelling (“I’m sick of hearing you say you don’t know! God, why are you so dumb?”). They haunt him in ways unexplainable, although both of them had already made clear they’re on the path of forgiving him, but why does he need to be given undeserved forgiveness—

He finds himself in the kitchen, hands so shaky and cold he’s barely able to even turn on the light, panic emanating for no fucking reason, because he’s all messed up and gross and mutilated in ways that can’t be seen with the naked eye. He can’t cope. Everything fails when he tries. He laughs again, choked and nervous, opening the pantry and letting his eyes mindlessly glance over the food on the shelves; he reaches with invisibly scarred arms and takes out the glass jar of honey.

Toast is easy to make, right? Easy to make. You put the bread in the toaster and you wait and you spread honey on it when it’s done. Shuichi likes toast with honey. It’s easy. Kokichi needs easy. He can do this.

Ignoring the voices that have started screaming at him again he fumbles with the bag of bread, barely managing to fish a slice out, hands latching onto it in a seizing grasp so tight it almost crumbles in his hand. Flashes of hot and cold ravaging his body, he practically shoves it in the toaster, aching, hurting, shattering.

why are you like this it’s so easy to live why are you having so much trouble with it? is it because you can’t stop hearing iruma’s pleas or maki’s harsh words or kaito’s yells or saihara-chan’s confusion whenever you hung out and played games? is it because it would’ve been easier to stay dead, easier to be crushed and leave it at that, all cracked bones under unforgiving metal? or maybe it’s because—

Stop, fuck, just—

He’s crying—why is he crying?—by the time the toast pops out, golden and hot but he picks it up anyway, he’s been burned worse before, by words and by poison, so he holds it and puts it on a plate on the counter that they must have forgotten to put away.

With a strangled sob he clumsily takes the jar of honey again, tremulous fingers barely letting him even keep his hands on it, glass smooth and cold against calloused skin, worn and too ruined and bitten to be attached to someone as youthful as he is. He can do this, he has to do this, because he doesn’t feel like he’s getting anywhere near better but if he sticks to routine and does everyday things he should be doing easily—he could trick his mind into thinking so. It works, it always works, please work this time…

(Why is something as simple as this so goddamn hard, why is it all so hard, why was dying easier than all of this, why is existing so easy but settling down so difficult, why is waking up so simple but finding reasons to let it stay that way so unbearable, why, why why why—)

He bites his tongue and curses brokenly when the glass jar slips from his hands, falling to the floor without an ounce of grace, fracturing into uncountable glass shards at his feet.

Immediately he steps back, before sinking to his knees with a pathetic sob, the same sinful hands reaching out, hovering and unsure of what to do. Broom—yeah, the broom, he can sweep this up, he can fix it, he can fix all of this, he can fix himself, he can live, he can make himself feel okay, he can exist, he can do this, he can breathe, he can—

In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. His lungs quiver and shrivel up and cease to work whenever he tries sucking in air, body failing him, mind overrun as his vision blurs. If he could just get up and get a broom or something, he could get this all over and done with, or he could stop thinking of the worst possible ways to end this, end him.

Arms wrap around him gently before he can even try to stand up. Kokichi trembles, clawing at the hands of the person as he blubbers and cries and bows his head, unraveling again just as he always does, sick to his stomach and wondering why he’s subjected to this form of torture that he’s incapable of enduring for any longer.

The person gently turns him around in their arms, cups his cheek. The hand is cold. Shaking, too.

He wants to laugh again, but all that leaves him is another mangled cry, idly pressing his forehead against Shuichi’s chest, ringing in his ears so loud he can’t hear whatever the other boy is trying to tell him. Kokichi’s fingers dig into his back, into his soft sleeping shirt, moments away from tearing the fabric. He could throw up. He could die.

A kiss is pressed to the top of his head, and Shuichi is too nice for someone who had found his very pathetic boyfriend sobbing on the kitchen floor with forgotten toast on the counter and a shattered glass jar with honey pooling at his feet. This time, Kokichi does laugh, the noise interrupted by hiccuping sobs but near-hysterical at the exact same time, the sound oddly resembling the way he had laughed in the killing game, though lacking the malice it had at the time. Tired this time around.

He laughs until it gives way to screaming sobs, Shuichi trying his best to stop his own disturbed trembling, merely speaking softly and low into the shell of Kokichi’s ear, no doubt trying to reassure him. Or get him to cope (and fail). Or help him breathe.

why is this happening why am i like this why are you doing this to me, shuichi, it just hurts more whenever you try and i’m trying so hard to feel okay again and make things easier but it just gets harder every single day and—

—Kokichi giggles softly.

Shuichi shushes him gently, but Kokichi basks in the ridiculousness of this all. He switches between laughing and crying, screaming and chuckling, breaking down. Perhaps he’ll never get back from this. Shuichi had told him that all his emotions are valid, but how can he describe how he’s feeling into words? Crying is supposed to help. How amusing.

(Is he supposed to feel better? Relieved? He stifles a noise halfway between a sob and a chortle. It’s uproarious, he decides, that he feels anything but.)

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT!「致斯卡提的情诗」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: A Love Poem to SKADI Translation (Chapter 1-06 新的发展: New Development)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC.

Location: Vikya City

Johnny: Welcome back… That's not a bad look you have there; looks like you've gained much during your little trip.

MC: Yes; I've gained quite a lot of information as well as a new mindset.

Johnny: Great.

Johnny: It might be a little redundant to ask you this now, but...

Johnny: Do you still want to go down to the Mansion in person and explore its depths, beautiful young miss?

⊳Choice: Yes; I want to go there in person

MC: Yes; I want to go down to the Manor of Hermes myself and have a look.

MC: However, I'll be doing this with a different outlook than I previously had.

Johnny: A different outlook?

MC: Yes; just like I've told you before, the reason why I chose to head to the Mansion was because...

MC: Because of my "responsibility to Yao Yu and the potential readers of this article”.

MC: And I didn’t really care what the Manor’s like or what’s even inside it.

MC: But after these handful of simple investigations I did, I suddenly realized that...

MC: This “haunted” Mansion might actually be way more interesting than I thought.

MC: Those who know of the truth behind it protect it in every single way they can, sharing the same tacit understanding of keeping a sort of mutual “silence” about this matter.

MC: But why is this so? I wish to know of the truth. Therefore, I’d like to try my hand at it.

MC: That’s why, I’ll be going to the Mansion with this positive and open mindset from now on; this is what I truly feel. 

MC: I hope I will gain some meaningful things from this.

Johnny: Miss Yao was right; you’re really an eccentric one.

Johnny: Perhaps you may really be the one to bring a new “development” to the story that lies within that Mansion.

MC: ???

Johnny: It’s nothing; just me talking to myself.

Johnny: Oh right, let me give you a present as thanks for helping me collect the many different things for the Party.

Saying so, he procured a box-like object from his bag, passing it to me.

It looked pretty aged, like an old item that had seen many years. It had many marks on it, the "scars" left by its many years of age.

And it had a slightly odd-looking painting on its lid. There were four indentations on it, where something was seemingly supposed to be inserted.

Johnny: This box is called "Allie's Winter".

Johnny: The people of Skadi always say that "the things of utmost importance are always hidden the deepest"; and that Mansion's no different...

Johnny: The most special "truth" of it is hidden deep underground. And if that is what you ultimately seek, then "Allie's Winter" is an absolute necessity.

MC: You mean… There's a key or something hidden in this?

Johnny: You can understand it as such. However, the design of "Allie's Winter" is a little more complicated. Take a look here...

He pointed to the four indentations on the box.

Johnny: Each of these different segments are an imagery, representing something closely related to the Mansion: swords, flowers, some sort of strange symbols, and the flames of fire.

MC: Do these four segments… mean exactly what they depict?

Johnny: Originally, this box was embellished with matching gems inlaid in each segment when whole.

Johnny: But due to some unknown reasons, these gems have been shattered, and it's fragments are now scattered all throughout the Mansion.

Johnny: If you wish to learn of the "truth", then gathering all these fragments and piecing them together to make this imagery whole is what you should be doing first.

Johnny: Only when all of these gems are collected and placed together, will the four doors leading to the "truth" open.

Johnny: You'll be able to open "Allie's Winter" after you've finished investigating everything that lies behind those doors and obtain the final "guide" that'll lead the way.

MC: Alright then, I understand.

Johnny: Additionally, here's a friendly tip for you. Don't try to force "Allie's Winter" open. If it is ever opened in an incorrect manner...

Johnny: The mechanism fixed inside will destroy everything that's been hidden within.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

MC: …...

MC: And… Why did you give me something so important? Just because I wish to find out the truth of that Mansion?

Johnny: Of course not. If that was all you wanted to know…

Johnny: Then the current "truth" that exists within that Mansion would be enough to satisfy you, even if you didn't have "Allie's Winter".

Johnny: But what you've said earlier has proven and made me believe that you're different from those who act only for the brief feeling of gratification that comes after.

Johnny: You've got the qualifications required to possess "Allie's Winter" 

MC: So, you're saying that "Allie's Winter" is something that's only circulating within a very small circle of people?

Johnny: Well now… You'll know once you open that box.

Johnny: Alright, we've wasted plenty of time now. You shouldn't waste time; you should hurry and set out if you're already prepared.

Johnny: Adding on to that, if you happen to run into any difficulties in your investigations of the Mansion, and find yourself unable to proceed; maybe you can try going to the National Park of Mer De Glace and have a look there?

Johnny: An "eccentric" fellow has been there lately. Who knows, you might end up gleaning something meaningful from him.

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅A Love Poem to SKADI⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-05: The Ominous Place) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-07: The Beginning of a New Adventure)

[vikingsarememes]

His True Wife

previous part                         ↭ part  two   ↭                             next part 

Main Characters: Ivar the boneless, Reader, Original male Character/ Thoman

Characters Mentioned: Freydis, Hvitserk, Ubbe, Bjorn

Summary: you were unable to be reunited with your husband for a month, and when you finally met him, he came bearing the worst news.

Word Count: 1316

A/N: none

warnings: none

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Full moon, it’s been a full moon cycle since you last saw both Ivar and Hvitserk, you weren’t sure who you missed more, your husband or your friend, you hated them both for leaving you alone like this, you’ve been to the city few times, you glanced at Ivar and his pregnant bride, you knew something was wrong, Ivar’s never tried to have sex with you, you knew the child wasn’t his in any way, you knew because he told you about what happened with Margrethe.

You remember that day when he came knocking on your door, with angry tears, and how ashamed she made him feel, you remember because you stayed up the whole night trying to calm him down unless Freydis bewitched him somehow, that slave was associated with Loki himself, you could swear on your life for that, but glances was all you got, Ivar spoke to you as if he spoke to anyone else in the hall, he never had time to speak with you in private, you eventually gave up, he’ll visit when he visits, other than that, you stayed in your farm, alone.

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“My lady, we gathered the wool  and we are willing to sell it when the sun rises” your laborer said, interrupting your peaceful meal, you nodded at him “alright Thoman, sell it, if any gold remain after buying our needs, perhaps you should buy yourselves new cloaks, this winter will be the coldest” you mumbled, staring at the empty chair at the table, in front of yours, one that’s usually filled by a Ragnarsson and took a deep breath “my lady, may I suggest we buy chicken as well?” you looked at him confused “chicken?” 

“We waste money on buying eggs, if we buy chicken, we can save more money, and with that, expend our work” he explained “Thoman if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to hold territories” you raised an eyebrow at him “oh no, I promise not, I’ve learned my place in this new life, but before all of this, I was a banker, responsible of developing simple projects, like small farms, and shops, I help them gain more money, to pay for their loans and feed their families” you listened to him carefully, banker, a word that was new to you, you heard stories from Bjorn about how they had a place to save all the gold and valuable in the modern world, how people can ask for money and be given to them if they can return it later.

“Please, sit, tell me about your vision for this farm” you requested, even though you’re aware that the only available seat is the seat of Ragnarssons, but they weren’t here, they can’t judge you for using it, Thoman sat and looked at you “Kattegat is poor my lady, farmers are more valuable than kings and queens, we can experiment new herbs, bring more animals if we become the main source of food, we will have power over Kattegat, isn’t it what you want my lady? To be powerful, so powerful that you won’t be ignored?” he asked, that’s when you realized, he knew.

“What’s in it for you Thoman?” you asked curiously, aware of the man’s big ambitions “well, the more profit you get, the more us slaves get, I dream of buying my freedom or earning it, my wife was killed in the raid but my sons were taken by King Harald’s men, a man with nothing wishes nothing but to serve, hopefully, one day when I die, I’ll go to heaven and my sins will be forgiven, perhaps a small cottage to age in as well, perhaps if the gods were good I might be reunited with my sons” he explained then looked at you, you couldn’t help but feel sympathy “but what’s in it for you is richness and power, that’s more important” you nodded in agreement. 

“Alright, Thoman I’m choosing to trust you, do not make me regret my decision or I swear to our gods, I’ll be crueler than Loki, I’ll be more ruthless than our king and I will make sure you die painfully, other than that, I want you to proceed with the plan, and I expect you to report to me every day” you took a sip from your mead then got up, a slave took your plates away to wash them, “I promise you won’t regret it” Thoman beamed “promises are nothing, what matters are the actions” you unbraided your hair and headed to your bed “now please leave, it’s time to rest,” you said behind the curtain as you took off your dress, laying down under the fur.

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That night you had a dream, more of a nightmare, you dreamt of a serpent, crawling between you and Ivar, taking him away from you, wrapping itself around him, choking him, he didn’t fight it in your dream, you tried to rescue him but the serpent had a grip on him, you woke up panting, your hand on your heart, you must see him, you must see your husband.

You heard a knock on the door, two knocks, the code, you rushed to the door and opened it, still in your sleeping gown, it was him, in a cloak, men with him, loyal men, you looked frightened, you knew he wasn’t there to make you his queen like he always promised, no, there was something wrong “Ivar, what is it?” he limped inside and closed the door, “I do not have much time, Bjorn and Ubbe took over Kattegat, I must flee, Y/N, I want you to know that you are the only person I’ve ever loved with all of my heart, and if fate doesn’t bring us together again, I don’t want you to weep, but as long as I live I will try to come back to you” 

You felt tears running down your cheeks, you hated this, you wrapped your arms around him hugging him, holding into him “don’t leave me Ivar” you pleaded, he hugged you back, hiding his face into your neck, breathing your scent in, he shortly pulled away and caressed your cheek, his eyes were red, one with blood, the other with tears you noticed as you looked at him “we will meet again, here, or Valhalla, I promise I will come back for you” he whispered, placing a kiss on your lips.

“Then... take me with you” you whispered again “you are safer here, as long as they don’t know what we had, my brothers wouldn’t hurt you” he breathed in, you knew he was hiding his sobs for your sake, for the men’s sake, you knew because his voice was choked, as if it wasn’t his “would you do me one last thing?” he asked, looking at you deep in the eyes, memorizing every detail in your face “smile, I want to remember like that, happy” 

You sobbed, even more, he held you with one arm, you can’t believe it was actually happening, you were being separated from the love of your life and this time, he might never return, you wiped your tears off and looked at him, you smiled, even though your eyes were red, even though your tears haven’t dried yet “I love you, always remember this” he whispered before kissing you one last time, just like that, he left, leaving you all alone, he was gone, and he left you broken.

That night you didn’t sleep, you wept and wailed, and when you did later, he haunted you and it was like that for the rest of the nights, whenever you closed your eyes to rest, you saw him, you saw him laughing, crying, smiling, you saw him angry, happy, you saw him different every night, but all of your dreams end the same, with him leaving you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Tags: (let me know if you want to be tagged for this story) @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg​ @fuck-i-cant-find-a-name @youbloodymadgenius​

Images source: stolen from google images.

[rohad93]

A knight Affair: chapter 7 - Bandages and Roses

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064748/chapters/50501213

~~

It was another beautiful day in the Drysor empire. 

Anywhere in the empire except in the palace.

It had been four days since the knight captain’s public lashing, which many of the palace staff had bore witness too, including the captain’s own men. 

Morale had been low and the air around the palace thick and gloomy ever since, not just because of the knight captain but because the ever cheerful princess Rosaline and compassionate Azurine had also been dour ever since.

It was only the day after that an entire platoon of men were conscripted from the town and sent to the front to great public outcry. 

The front had shifted again, pushing past Fort Luna to the east and putting it firmly back in control of the empire again.

For now.

Despite not having left the palace in four days Blue knew everything that was going on. She had sent out her own ears and eyes to keep careful watch over everything happening with the rebellion… and with her mother. Who had taken to wandering the halls at night, according to the servants. She and Pink now slept with their doors tightly latched. 

Said princess walked up the palace stairs to the second floor, a tray laden with the usual breakfast fair held in both her hands. She balanced the tray on one hand and pushed open Yellow’s door. The room was dark, the sun, blocked out by the heavy curtains drawn tightly closed over them. 

Blue nudged the door closed with her hip and walked quietly through the dark room, setting the tray gently on the bedside table before going to open the curtains. With a flourish the curtains opened, letting the fresh sunlight spill across the walls and floor, casting the room in it’s warm glow.

From her position face down in the bed, Yellow grumbled. 

“Good morning, to you as well.” She said, walking up to the bed and glancing at the bandages wrapped around Yellow’s torso before she settled herself onto her knees, eye level with the bed.

With a slight turn of her head one amber colored eye appeared from where it had been buried in the pillow. 

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, reaching out to run her fingers through the mussed blonde hair. “Did you sleep alright?” 

Yellow grunted an affirmative. Her eye closing again under Blue’s gentle ministrations. 

“I brought you something to eat, are you hungry?” 

“Yes…” Her voice was still thick with sleep and muffled by the pillow. Blue smiled, glad life seemed to be returning to Yellow. She had refused all food and drink the first two days. She had very nearly shoved some down her throat in desperation the day before. She carefully and slowly helped her sit up. Yellow hissed with every movement till she was sitting up with her feet hanging off the bed.

“The physician should be in soon to change your bandages.” She said as she set the tray in Yellow’s lap. 

Yellow gave a tired nod as she slowly brought food to her mouth. It seemed every movement pained her and it tore at Blue’s heart. 

“How’s Rosaline?” Yellow questioned after swallowing her first bite. 

“Better. She’s starting to be able to move her fingers again.” She paused and Yellow looked up at her. “She’d very much like to come see you.”

Yellow’s eyes fell back to the tray in her lap.

“You know I don’t want her to see me like this, Azurine. I don’t even want you to see me…” She turned away. 

Gentle but firm fingers on her chin made her look up at the stony face of the eldest princess.

“Nothing will keep me from you, Aurelia.” It was a promise more than anything. A statement of absolute fact. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, my love. This is my fault…” Blue released her, frowning. 

“What?” Yellow blinked, trying to understand her companion’s train of thought. Blue turned away.

“When my mother began acting unusual I should have done something. Now the empire is caught in a bloody rebellion and worse still you and Rosaline are suffering for my inaction…If I had acted, I could have saved my people from this, saved you both from this.” Tears were gathering in her eyes

Rough fingers smoothed over her cheek and cerulean eyes shot open to look at Yellow. The effort of holding up her arm obviously pained her and Blue took hold of it, holding it to her face, the muscles sagged with relief. 

“No one could have foreseen this, Blue...” She soothed and Blue sniffed. A small smile pulled at Blue’s lips and she looked up at Yellow beneath her wet lashes.  

The knight’s raised brows, a silent indicator of her question.

“Here it is, you’re the injured one, but you’re comforting me…” She half laughed half choked. 

“As I always will.” Yellow smiled tiredly at her, caressing her cheek with a calloused thumb.

With a watery smile she turned to lay a kiss on the rough palm 

“Will you let Pink come? No matter how I assure her, she won’t believe it till she’s seen you herself.” She mumbled against the skin. Yellow sighed.

“I suppose.” She agreed before pulling back her hand to continue eating. Blue watched her with a serene smile.

“I’m going to do something…” Blue finally said quietly after a few minutes, prompting a curious look from Yellow. “About mother...It’s time I acted. She’s become a danger to the empire and to us…” She explained and Yellow looked more than alarmed.

“Blue…” She started unsure. “We both know that I will stand by you, but I am… useless right now.” She hissed.

Blue could tell it hurt her just to say it.

“You can’t fight, but you are never useless, darling, besides, I haven’t yet decided what course of action I need to take, regardless.” She calmed the knight, some of the panic going from her face at that. “But I must act...She’s become unpredictable and grows more violent by the day.” Blue sighed.

“Has something happened?” 

“A group of rebel prisoners were brought in from the front last night, they are set to be burned alive today.” She scowled. 

“Meaning the rebels will answer in kind with our captured soldiers…” Yellow sighed, gaze dropping to the floor. 

“Things have become a mess…” Blue shook her head. 

“Things have been a mess… they’re just getting worse as your mother’s condition worsens.” Yellow said around a mouthful of bread. Blue couldn’t find it in her to disagree.

“I will fix this…” Blue promised, watching the knight flinch with certain movements. 

“You will.” Yellow stated. A fact without doubt. Blue smiled. 

They sat in comfortable silence while Yellow ate.

No sooner had she finished a knock sounded on the door. Blue stood up, smoothing out her skirts and standing a respectable distance away.

“Come in.” Yellow called. 

The royal physician poked his head through and smiled upon seeing the knight sitting up. He bowed to Blue. 

“A good morning to you, your Highness and to you captain. It’s time to change your bandages.” He stepped inside, the necessary supplies under one arm. Yellow nodded.

“I will leave you to it. I’ll go let Rosaline know of what we talked about, captain.” Blue said as she moved around the man to the door. Yellow nodded.

Blue quietly shut the door behind her as she walked out in the hall. The fact that both Pink and Yellow seemed to be on the mend lifted some of the weight from her shoulders.

They we're both so resilient. 

she smiled to herself as she walked up the steps to the third floor where Pink's and her own room where located.

she was so engrossed in her thoughts but she did not notice the person coming toward her down the hall.

"Azurine" 

Blue stopped cold suddenly noticing her mother standing in front of her in the hall and immediately began to try and determine how lucid the queen was.

"Mother…"Blue had to force herself to curtsy in the queen's presence.

"How are you today?" The queen questioned and it gave Blue pause. For the first time in days the queen's eyes seemed clear, at least for now. 

"Fine... I was just on my way to speak with Rosaline…" she said warily. Unsure how to proceed, she didn’t know what might set of a change in the monarch. 

"Ah, of course. I won't keep you, I was wondering if you had seen Captain Stone?" She inquired. Blue jolted, looking at her mother with wide blue eyes. Was this a sick jape? Looking into her mother’s eyes, she decided that no, it wasn’t. Her mother did not remember ordering the knight to lashings. 

“Captain Stone is in bed, healing from her wounds…” The words came out sharp and cold.

“Wounds?” The queen tilted her head, looking concerned and a deep coldness settled over Blue, turning her insides to ice.

“Yes, from the lashing’s you ordered four days ago…” It took all she had not to ground those words out between her teeth. The queen seemed surprised by this news before a slow understanding seemed to crawl upon her face.

“Oh… yes… I suppose I did…” The queen was looking off into the distance again, seemingly lost. “I suppose I’ll send the garrison commander…” She seemed to be talking more to herself now as she began to wander away without a second glance at her elder daughter. 

A blinding fury rose up in Blue, that her mother could have Yellow publicly lashed and than forget it had ever happened. 

Her fists clenched into her skirts and she jerked when her fingers brushed the handle of the dagger strapped to her thigh. 

Blue jolted up straight as her fingers slipped through the small, purposeful slit in her dress and let her fingers wrap around the onyx handle. 

They were alone in the hall.

The queen's back turned to her only a few feet away, unsuspecting.

It would be so quick. 

Her fingers clenched tightly around the handle before she let her it go, and watched the older woman walk down the stairs till her white hair disappeared from sight.

Beneath all Blue's fury was sorrow. Sorrow that everyday someone she had once loved was slowly disappearing, becoming an apparition that haunted the palace halls, and her and her sister’s memories.    

She shut her eyes tight and let out a long sigh before continuing down the hall to Pink's room. 

She rapped her knuckles against the door and her sister's yell immediately invited her inside. 

Blue peaked inside to find the youngest princess sitting on her bed. Her bandaged hands set gently in her lap. 

Pink looked up to her, smiling,but the moment her eyes landed on Blue the smile fell away.

"What's wrong?" The youngest royal asked as she slid off the bed to stand in front of her.

"Nothing's wrong." She insisted. Pink just frowned up at her and Blue sighed. "I simply ran into mother in the hall…she was asking for Yellow. She has no recollection I'm ordering Yellows lashings."

The frown on Pink's lips seemed to deepen as she looked around Blue at the closed door, as though her mother might come through at any given second. 

"It's alright." Blue said. "She went down the stairs." 

"I saw her walking around the halls last night…" She glanced back up at Blue.

"I heard her." Blue nodded. 

"What is she doing?"

"I couldn't begin to guess." Blue shook her head wearily. "Something to worry about another day. I came to tell you the Yellow has finally agreed to let you come see her." 

That seemed to instantly cheer the younger girl. The smile jumping back onto her face. 

"Really?" She bounced on her toes and Blue could only smile and nod. 

"The physician was changing her bandages when I left but they should be finished by the time we get back." 

“Yes, let’s go!” She nodded eagerly. She reached for the door but stopped, wincing a little as her fingers tried to close around the handle.

“Let me, Pink.” Blue reached around her and opened the door. 

“Right… thanks.” Pink peaked out into the hall and finding it devoid of the queen hurried to the stairs, Blue right behind her. 

Just as they approached Yellow’s door, it swung open as the royal physician let himself out, he stopped, seeing the princess’ and gave a quick bow.

“Your Highness’.” He looked to Blue “The captain’s wounds are healing as expected, there have been no signs of infection either.” He smiled and internally Blue sagged with relief at the news. “They have begun to scab over so moving will prove a bit more difficult but it’s my suggestion that she go outside for some fresh air. Perhaps you will have better luck convincing her than I.” He smiled and gave another bow to the two before turning and walking away. 

He left the door open and Pink wasted no time darting inside.

“Yellow!” Pink beamed as soon as she saw the blonde. “How are you? How do you feel? Does it hurt terribly?” She fired off making the knight blink owlishly at her.

Blue giggled as she closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them in the privacy of Yellow’s quarters. 

“Pink, breathe and let her answer one question before you ask another.” She reminded the girl as she passed to sit on the bed next to the knight.

“I’ll be fine, Rosaline. How are you?” She asked instead. Pink blinked back, surprised by the question. She looked down at her bandaged hands, each individual finger carefully covered to prevent infection, thought it also made it difficult to move them. 

“No, I’m fine!” She held up her hands as if to show the knight. Yellow didn’t look at all convinced. 

“I’ve been burned before.” She said easily. “I imagine it still hurts quite a bit.” She stated simply. 

Pink twitched her fingers and twinged at the pain and tightness in the digits, she frowned.

“You’re a lot stronger than anyone gives you credit for.” 

She jerked up to look at Yellow wide eyed. 

“I’ve known grown men who whined more at less.” She hummed. Pink’s cheeks darkened at the knight captain’s praise. 

Blue looked adoringly at the knight out the side of her eye. 

“Yeah… well, thanks.” The princess mumbled abashedly.   

"The physician said it would be best if you went outside for some fresh air and sunshine…" Blue spoke up taking the attention off the youngest.

Yellow pursed her lips and turned her head, avoiding Blues gaze. 

"I know you probably don't want to go outside or let anyone see you but it will help.”

“I’d prefer not too…” The knight groused. 

 “Please, for me?" Blue batted her eyes at the knight whose face puckered up like she’d swallowed a lemon.

"Fine" She finally scowled.

"Excellent" She smiled. "I'll help you get into something." She stood from the bed and walked over to the open wardrobe on the far side of the room. Yellow huffed as Blue began digging through her attire.

"Yellow?" 

The knight turned back to Pink who was gently touching the bandages wrapped around her fingers and looking intently at the stone floor.

"What is it, Rosaline?"

"I'm sorry." She said quietly, looking at the knight from beneath her lashes. 

Blonde eyebrows disappeared into equally blonde hair. Yellows eyes flickered to Blue who had stopped to watch the two over her shoulder. 

"For what?" The knight questioned. 

Pink's eyes went back to her hands.

"If I hadn't gotten hurt you probably wouldn't have been punished…" She began softly.

“Stop” Yellow said quietly but the one word halted all other noise in the room. She sighed tierdley and Pink tried not to shrink in on herself at the woman’s aggravated look.

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Rosaline.” 

“But…” 

“No” Yellow snapped, scowling but it wasn’t Pink she was angry at. “What happened was not your fault… nor yours.” She looked up at Blue. “It was simply something unfortunate that happened due to the queen’s… sickness. You and I both are victims of that, Pink.” She finished. 

Pink looked at her wide eyed. 

“What?” Yellow leaned back at the wide grin on the girl’s face. 

“You’ve never called me ‘Pink’ before.” Her wide eyes almost sparkled in the morning sun. 

Yellow felt her face grow hot and she turned to Blue who was just smiling at her. 

“Are we going outside or not?” She finally huffed, turning her full attention to Blue, who was still standing in the open wardrobe.

“Of course, darling.” She giggled to herself, pulling some clothes out.

“Next time just enjoy it, don’t make mention of it.” Blue whispered into Pink’s ear as she walked by. Pink just grinned. 

Getting Yellow dressed was a slow process, as was getting her down the stairs without too much jostling.

“Let’s go to my garden!” Pink suggested. Blue looked at Yellow who just nodded as they slowly made their way to the private garden the queen had built when Pink was born. 

It was private, no palace windows faced it and servants only attended it at certain times. Right now it stood empty save for the three of them and the immaculate rose bushes of varying colors that surrounded the area. 

Yellow carefully sat herself on the large carved marble bench, Blue sitting next to her, hands folded in her lap. Their legs brushed but Blue made sure to keep well away from the knights torso. Pink quickly disappeared into the forest of flowers. They could hear her her rustling about somewhere in the foliage.

Blue glanced at her companion and was glad the knight seemed to perk up in the warm sunlight. 

‘Like a grouchy sunflower.’ She thought to herself, amused. 

Yellow carefully reached out and took one of Blue’s folded hands and held it securely in her own. Blue couldn’t help the tranquil smile that worked its way onto her face as the warmth of Yellow’s skin seeped into her. She held the knights hand in her lap, running her fingers over her knuckles contentedly.

“I wish everyday could be like this one.” She murmured. Yellow made an agreeing sound. 

“I found them!” Pink came running up to them with a pair of roses held carefully in her bandaged hands and handed one to Yellow and Blue, who was grinning brightly at the golden colored rose now grasped between her fingers.

Yellow hummed in thought at the sapphire tinted flower the princess had given her.

“They’re beautiful, Pink.” Blue smiled, sliding the flower’s stem into her hair behind her ear, careful of the thorns. 

“They are.” Yellow agreed. Blue plucked the flower from her hand and set it carefully behind Yellow’s ear, ignoring the look the knight was giving her. 

“Ah, but what about you?” Blue questioned. 

“Me?” Pink asked. 

“Yes, you.” She smiled and reached across to one of the nearby rose bushes and carefully plucked off one of its dainty, blush colored flowers. Carefully Blue arranged the plant in her sister’s puffy curls until she was satisfied. 

“Perfect.” She leaned back, admiring her work with a smile.

“Indeed.” Yellow agreed with a nod. 

“Thanks…” Pink ducked her head, trying to hide the smile she couldn’t push down. 

They sat in the garden till the sun dipped behind the palace’s walls, casting them in shadows.

“Come, we had best go back inside. Yellow needs to rest and it’s time to have your bandages changed. You head off that way.” Blue told Pink as she stood from the bench and stretched before turning back around to offer her hands to Yellow and helping her stand. 

“Alright.” Pink sighed and stood from the ground. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, Yellow.” She called as she took off jogging back toward the castle. 

“Energetic as ever.” Yellow chuckled. 

“She wasn’t like that yesterday, you know. She’s really been missing you…” She said, helping the knight stand.  

Yellow hummed, but Blue caught the twitch of her lip. 

“You know…” She started, looking at the deep cobalt rose still sitting behind the knight’s ear. “I think that flower is very becoming of you, my love.” She smirked.

Yellow chuckled.   

“I think blue might be my color.” She grinned at her.

Blue rolled her eyes, but the smile betrayed her as she pressed her hands to the knight’s cheeks.

“I think you might be right.” She murmured before pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.

[atreefullofmonkiesonnitrous]

Snow Queen - Sleigh Bells - day six

Somewhere in the Arctic -  1855

Crowley stomped across the frozen waste, bundled in so many layers he most look round from the outside.  It was dark, but that was hardly new, it had been dark for at least several days.  Why in Satan's name they would send him to this frozen wilderness he didn't know.  He did his best work abid the teeming crowds of cities, where all it took was a push on the right  person to set off a cascade that could run for years.  Besides with was no place for a reptile, they should have sent a Legion, they are warmblooded, and if one of them died out here they'd just make another.

He thought he heard a sound, something out of place, bright and cheerful.  He looked around but couldn't see anything but the featureless white world.  He resumed walking.  He wasn't even entirely sure where he was, of where he was going. He'd come up from a meeting below straight into the nothingness.  He was going north, he knew that much.  He'd never be completely lost when under the stars.  But north From where and To where he wasn't sure.  They just said get out and head north.

The sounds came again, like laughter or water.  He strained his eyes but still couldn't find the source.  The correscationg lights that danced across the sky were beautiful, but the odd illumination they left wasn't the best for distance viewing.  They created shadows where none should be, that moved like living things.  He knew he was more menacing than any umbral haunt, but they did make it blessed hard to see.  He could barely trace the line of his own footprints, disappearing into the night.

A third time he heard it, echoing through the still night.  He'd hear an owl hoot maybe an hour ago.  Sometime before that he'd heard an arctic fox digging in the snow.  He was too far inland, wherever he was for any of the more abundant life of the coasts.  No bloody bears at least, they were all sleeping nice and warm in their dens like sensible creatures.  He wished he were too.

  When the sound came this time he finally saw something.  Flashes of light from behind him.  He strained his eyes to see more.  At least if he could see what it looked like he'd know a bit more about where he was.  The chiming sounded metallic, which was less helpful than it would have been a few hundred years ago.  Whole place was getting smaller all the time these days.  People finding other people, which was going a whole lot better for the finders than the found.  Missionaries were as bad as (most) angels.  High and mighty words about "saving people" but let someone say they are quite happy as they are, no saving needed thanks, and oh don't the whips and knives come out.  Makes sense they work for Heaven, act just like them.

The lights and sounds were getting closer, and the sounds finally resolved into bells.  What sort of benighted fool would be all the way out here and still bothering with sleigh bells.  Not bloody likely to have to stop short.  If there was another pedestrian within 50 miles he'd eat his hat.  Whoever this fool was it strained credulity for them not to be Crowley's objective out here, which made him dislike them on principle.  He still had no idea what he was meant to do to the idiot that they hadn't done to themselves just by being out here.  

As the vehicle got closer, the animals pulling it became more distinct.  Once he'd realized he was hearing sleigh bells and not harnesses jingling he'd ruled out dogs.  At that point he'd expected horses.  Bringing horses up here seemed like the kind of move that would go with the sleigh bells.  He was wrong.  What he did see were a matched pair of reindeer as white as the barren landscape.  Their harnesses must have also been white, since he couldn't see them, excerpt for the spots where they were gleaming with the golden bells he had been hearing.  Their antlers were wrapped in greenery, though they weren't close enough yet for him to say what, other than some sort of vine.  If he knew a blessed thing about reindeer they might tell him something about where he was, to bad he didn't.

Once he could finally see the sleigh that didn't help much either.  It looked like a fantasy of a sleigh and not like any particular type he'd ever seen.  It was made of something shimmering and translucent, like glass or ice.  He was beginning to feel distinctly odd about this.  The winter fairytale vision began to slow as it approached.  He noticed no driver sat up front, the reins lay loose, the reindeer seeking to know where to go.

        Crowley felt his heart seize up.  His strange assignment coming into focused, and if he was right, this was a test, and not one he knew how to pass.  He could see the passenger now, and for a moment, even though his fears had just been completely confirmed, he clean forgot them.  She was breathtaking, as in he forgot to breath for a solid minute.  For one thing she was a "she" which was unusual enough.  Aziraphale rarely took on a female shape, but when she did she was glorious.  

Her hair was long, as it almost never was, a starlight spill down her back and shoulders, crowned by a spiky coronet that looked like shards of ice. Her throat was defined by a choker of the pale blue stones and depended lower in an elaborate necklace.  She was all in white velvet with traceries of the same gems glittering across the bodice.  The soft, pleasant curves she always had were magnified now, he could see her magnificent bosom and could imagine the extra fullness in her hips, currently hidden beneath the white furs that blanketed her lap.  He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to wrap himself around her and hold her tight.  He  stood rooted to the spot as she pulled to a stop next to him.

"Crowley, what on earth are you doing all the way out here.  There can't be much tempting to do here?"  At the angel's words, the reality of the situation came crashing back to him.  

"I think you are the reason I'm here," he replied.  "They just said go up here, go north, you'll know it when you see it.  And the first thing I saw was you in this stunning fairytale rig.  What are you up to in this get up?"     

"Oh, I'm supposed to be a vision, they think the arctic needs a saint, but the people here don't seem to go in for that sort of thing.  Lot of stuff and bother if you ask me.  But it was rather a direct order my dear, I'm afraid I can't can't just let it drop."

"Nah, best you don't, think I'm going to have to be seen 'doing something' about it." He turned back to the snow. 

"Cowley," Aziraphale called, "I can at least let you ride along a bit of the way.  Not too far, mind, but it's dreadfully cold."

Crowley considered the danger they were being watched already, but if they were, they'd already been seen talking.  He climbed in and Aziraphale budged over to make room, but the sleigh really was built for one so it was a tight fit.  Crowley didn't mind at all.  He leaned as far into the angel as he thought he could get away with and lost himself for a time in the warmth against his side, and the chiming of the bells.

Eventually they stopped.  "The village is just a few hours north on foot," Aziraphale looked over sadly, "it's probably best you go on alone from here."

Crowley got up reluctantly, "You're right, Angel, thanks for the lift anyway.  If say good luck, but well…"

"Yes, well, I'll see you after?"

"I hope so, my lot didn't arrange transport home either."  With that he stepped out of the sleigh and began to walk.  The reindeer started moving again and quickly the entire conveyance disappeared again into the white world.  The last thing to go was the sound of bells.

Crowley walked the rest of the way into the town, which hardly warranted the name.  He hid himself and set about dropping some eves.  His luck was apparently back, as he overhead the most fascinating bed time story.  He left the town and came back in, openly and carrying a great pack.  He told the curious people that he was a scholar there to collect stories, especially fairytales.  He proceed to sit in the warm Central meeting house, and copy down every story told.  Hey was quickly joined by every child, and no few of the adults.  

He had only been at it a few days when the children started telling their own stories.  They had seen the Snow Queen in the woods.  Most of the adults laughed then off, but Crowley, the kind scholar, listened quite seriously and wrote down their stories with the rest.  He told them how clever and brave they were to remember their old stories and get away from the dangerous fairy. 

After a couple of weeks the children stop having new stories of the Snow Queen in the woods, and the old folks have finished telling all their tales.  Crowley promises to send them copies of the book he will make, and put the name of each teller with the tale. (And he actually does.) He leaves the town with a pack of provisions an skis he now knows how to not fall down on.  He goes much faster than when he was on foot.

He's gone half a day when he hears the bells again.  The reindeer are their normal dun now.  The sleigh is wood, painted blue and silver.  The occupant looks as he usually does, in a long white coat, his gloved hands on the reins, his short white blonde curls peeking out from under his hat.  The sleigh comes to a stop nearby, and Crowley skis up.

"Need a lift again?" Aziraphale asks.  Crowley grins.

"I won't say no to one, at least as far as a town if regular routes south, or a port." He climbed in. Stowing his skis and pack on the back.  With a flick of the reins they were off again.

"So, you going to tell me how you thwarted me this time?" The angel was smiling as he asked.

"Me?  I didn't really do anything.  Just sat in the village and let them tell me stories.  Gonna make a book of it so their traditional beliefs don't disappear." He gave his best guileless grin.  Aziraphale looked unimpressed.

"Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

Crowley laughed.  "No, really, this is all on your bosses.  They sent you out rigged up as a local fairytale who steals children.  Once I get it printed, you can take them the book."

"They get more and more out of touch every century."  Aziraphale said with a grimace.  "Most likely they were hoping a child would try to 'banish' me, which is basically a fake miracle and would make a fake saint.  How does that even help?"

"I can't say, almost sounds like one of our sort of schemes.  If I didn't know better, I'd think someone in our chains of command was sharing notes."  As soon as the words were out of Crowley's mouth his spin felt even more icy than the clime could account for.  If Heaven and Hell were comparing notes, it would only be a matter of time before the Arrangement was found out.  He realized he needed a plan for when that day came.  He could see similar trepidation on the angel's face.

"You know what, I think that route downstairs was somewhere near here.  Might be best if I went back that way."  The sleigh immediately began to slow.

"Yes, that might be a good idea, my dear," Aziraphale agreed.  "Do mind how you go, though."

"Course I will, Angel, just got some thinking to do."  Crowley replied.  He retrieved his pack and skis and headed off.  He needed to think of some kind of insurance against Hell.

For @drawlight‘s 31 days of ineffables --  hoooo  boy am I behind!  Work Conference sorry!